Rebecca Stansfield Poems

I once felt this feeling worse,
than how I'm feeling it now,
but never did it feel as if,
it would not go away the morning.
...

How is the substance made the,
L O V E, feeling-it for you,
of all amenity of feelings, I,
am bound to feel for you.
...

How is around in mind,
the how of enormous of timings,
in this that so crude of telling lies,
and telling of OUR feelings.
...

Blank paper pack arrives,
my stare projecting on the page,
and what was a full filled thought,
now a panting in my mind.
...

In the spring your seeds would fluctuate,
as butterflies above you flew,
but this time you started realising,
your fondness for weather changes grew.
...

I live here, this exotic non-sense appealing nation,
of a small town with houses called Sailtaire-
I know when I walk these roads, in Yorkshire that Orwell said,
the 'buildings towering popular and bare' or something like that,
...

I cannot write for passion;
I cannot write for love,
but the substitute that I'm literate for,
is all of blue, nothing above.
...

Silence. A drunk message in my head.
'Go away and f*ck off' I should of said.
But mind was intoxicated,
My heart unknown that night.
...

-God helped me arise,
in this that so place of emptiness,
my appalling sins of nastiness, .
-God had soon arrived,
...

Picture a girl,
sepia setting, sitting in the room,
her hair hanging and harassing her,
O.C.D
...