victoria haigh

Poetry was her escape.
Her refuge from a world of stress and bustle,
Expressing thoughts and ideas took her to the land of dreams.
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Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough.
Love is a storm of pleasure and an enchantment of sweetness.
Til i loved, i did not live enough.
The night is silent, and in its silence, dreams are hidden.
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Why do i let the small things in life get to me so much?
Why do i loose my cool so damn easily?
These questions are so simple
Yet i cant answer them
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Why do i do it
i honestly dont know
Its a confidence thing i think
i need to feel relaxed and at the same time alert.
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From the moment i saw her i was totally smitten
She was gorgeous and i couldnt avert my eyes
Her soft peachy skin
Her piercing blue eyes
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He had hair the colour of charcoal,
So dark and so distinguished
The odd flicker of grey to add a maturity to the man stood before me.
He never looked me in the eye
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