Friend Of Mine

It’s funny how we change
Funny, and rather strange
Although staring right at you
I don’t recall your face

You speak like you know me
And fool others with your lies
Remember all those years back when
I called you ‘friend of mine’ ?

Awkward fills the gap now
Where laughter once roamed free
But I can’t stand the sight of you
And you no longer me.


Fine China

You helped me up from the ground where I thought I would lay forever, made me realise that not all was lost. I saw how much you wanted me, but appreciated that you didn’t need me. I was broken when you found me, like a china doll in a charity shop – but you saw past my mangled hair and cracked eyes, you didn’t mind that I was tired and had nothing exciting left to offer the world. You made it your mission to show me how I deserved to be treated, you took me out and taught me all the things about the world I had forgotten; love, fun, laughter and inner peace.

You have to remember that even the strongest of super glue sometimes does not fix deepest of cracks in fine china. When something delicate has been broken it takes more than someone’s love to mend, and the glue doesn’t always hold.

You gave everything and more to me when I was down, but you can’t fix me. I need to fix myself, now I remember what life can be I need to remember who I can be. For that I need nobody else, and sometimes the pressure we put ourselves under in the name of loving another is too heavy for such fine material, and it begins to crack again.

I’m beyond grateful for you, I will forever be in debt to you for taking the time to try and mend me. You never asked for anything in return, I just wish I had something to give you other than my broken pieces, for broken pieces can cause more harm in the long run. No matter how pretty they seem.

Now I’ve been shown the path I have to walk it, but in order to mend I have to walk it with my own feet and can’t have you carry me. I hope that you understand, and I’m sorry if my jagged edges ever cut you whilst you tried your best to piece them back together again. If you look hard enough one day you will bump into me but this time walking along my road, a real girl – made of flesh and blood. Not the fragile doll you found that day.


I used to think it strange how I couldn’t be forced to feel,
Until I realised;
You don’t force a flower to bloom quicker,
A bird to fly higher,
The same way you cannot force a wound to heal.

Let it be,
All good things come to those who wait.