It’s a word I thought I knew. And I know you thought you knew it too. A definition so true and a mind so conscious of it yet a life lived to the contrary.

It’s like a bus journey. Am at the bus stop knowing where I want to get to. It’s clear what buses I must take because obviously I got my Google maps on my blackberry( the latest I should add) and the obvious fact that it says so on the bus timetable too. Standing here, rain, wind, a shelter shared with an old lady who keeps her Chanel handbag as close to her as possible, with the odd stares at me. Moving at my slightest hesitation. (I should have told her I wasn’t interested in stealing her Iphone4 or Prada purse or the two 50 pound notes in it, maybe I wanted the orbit chewing gum. Maybe. Yh I could see its contents clearly but how and why does this lady who I presume it about 65 years old have such things? The thought makes me smile. I taste a raindrop that falls on my teeth. Salty.) But if I did that, the sheer shock of it would scare her half to death and I really don’t want to go to jail at the moment. I got a life to live. Well am trying to live this life.

Life.  and almost instantly I’m transported into that world. Memories. Running through and fro. Clouds seem to darken, rain hits harder and there I was in that world standing with my pink Primark umbrella which is doing a very bad job of keeping me dry.

And whilst am still here, a bus arrives and I can’t really see the number but I hop on. Anything to get me away from this place. Oyster card beeps. Green. Well let’s go then. Green. I know he sees the reflection of the colour in my dark eyes. Green.

Colours, they seem to matter too. Because my mind thinks it’s so clever linking colours to words to memories to places then people. So when I see the colour green, it stimulates a chain reaction in my mind and the end result is always him. You. And it’s always to that place because well that’s the colour associated with that place. Green.

Faint smile.

Windows. The rain hits hard against them. In a drop I see the relief of the woman! Her legs seem longer, she seems taller! Lawrd don’t tell me she was holding her breath!

Windows- a shield against this rain. It seems to me they want to purposely get on me. Fighting hard against these windows that are innocent. As a matter of fact, these things are the only ones that have put up a fight for me… wet. Jeans. Rain is getting on me. An open window.

move.

My journey! Yes.

I check my phone. It says am going the wrong way.

The honk of a car.

The bark of a dog

A Cry of a cold baby

Rain hits my eye (I know my mascara will run). Blurred vision.

Am standing at the bus stop with this old lady. She’s still here. But I thought I got on a bus?

“But how I can change lines just like that?

From northern line to London midlands?

No it’s not a journey you pre book tickets for

Only to be collected the train station and discarded after the journey has ended!”

But what bus am I waiting on? I check my blackberry (low battery. Typical!)

‘Enter destination’

At that moment I knew, I wasn’t getting home anytime soon. If I hadn’t entered the postcode whilst I was there the last time then I don’t have it and I can’t seem to remember.

(This either means I have to find my own way or get a better phone with a longer battery life. I agree with the latter.) If only I could make one call

“To show like a missed call

But maybe when my minutes come

I may give you a buzz

Send a text

To let you know I was busy (and lost)

So busy that even my voicemail couldn’t answer

The last time you called?

It didn’t even ring twice and I answered

But now I check my phone log

Did you call?

Or did I call you

When I had no minutes?

Maybe that’s why I got a busy tone

And my phone charges went up”

I look up to this this woman staring at me. I know she can tell am pissed and she knows I can tell she’s even more afraid. But would she risk getting out her IPhone and calling the police? No. she wouldn’t.

I try to look out ahead trying to find my way through the rain. Trying to recognise the place I’m at, at the moment. Maybe my clever brain would recognise I have been here before and try and remember how to get me home.

15 mins later

It’s no good.

The word we both thought we knew? Meant a lot but we treated it as nothing. Playing with fire and hoping not to get burnt but fully knowing the scars it capable of leaving. Why? Because we both have been near this fire and been scotched by its heat alone however we seem to think we are ‘fireproof’ even though our suits seem to melt each time we get closer to it.

This time, fire wasn’t playing with us.

Heat.

But I was so sure. I knew. I was convinced because my knowledge of it stood the tests of time meant I passed the test too. But the signs were clearly shown. And I knowedgebly chose to ignore the signs.

*sighs*

I must keep going. It needed to be put out. Somehow. And my tears weren’t enough, either was the past and the pain seemed to increase the intensity of the fire. Those fire extinguishers did not work. Either did the fire blanket too. This type of fire? Needed something new. The heat was draining, causing the waters of my soul to evaporate. I almost died of thirst! (Frowns)

But you look so happy.

“So maybe this was a PS3

And you can changed games because you were losing at it

Switched controllers and reset setting s

To suit whatever mood you were in!”

But it’s a bus journey. With a never ending final destination but bus stops seem to be a place of shelter till the same bus with the same driver comes along. Each time. Without fail.

It’s a never ending final destination because well it never ends.

And by now you should have guessed what I have been trying to illustrate.

“No, in matters like this             

The heart is none of that

To be played upon, on anyhow

When it gave its all

Nothing was done

So when another requests everything

Then one begins to wonder

Back to the response that was first given

Retreat!

So whether it’s true or not

This time I won’t answer love’s call”

I think you need to read this poem to make your thinking complete. http://wp.me/p1uQOd-58