I Left You a Land

I left you a land

you can go there anytime

I slipped a season ticket into your pocket as I passed you by.

Saw you out

in a crowded train station

waiting for your platform with your usual inattention.

But I left you a land

with earth scorched like my brain

and a ticket damp and creased from my balled fist retrain.

I left you a land

soaked in your cologne

in your unquenchable facade to brood and be alone.

He can choke

on his thirst

a narcissism more expansive than the dessert.

It’s high noon

and so unbearably hot

the heat tingles on your skin like pulling plasters off.

Just cigarettes and cola

fizzes on your tongue

like the burning out of the blood-red sun.

I made it myself

but oh please explain

the patterns in climate and the varying terrain.

I left you a land

where nothing grows anymore

it’s just jagged and sharp, seared, singed and raw.

You’re easily bored

and won’t want to go home

you’ll find the ticket there when you reach for your phone.

I left you a land

with earth scorched like my brain

and one day I’ll send you there to feel that pain.

By The Poet Alesha

The Poet Alesha has always kept a diary of everything she’s feeling and over the years these entries have turned into poetry, she is constantly writing and hopes to release a debut poetry book soon. 

Alesha welcomes your comments on her poetry below....