Inspired by Tinder

standard September 9, 2014 Leave a response

So, I’m on Tinder. Who flippin’ isn’t by the looks of things?! Jaypers.

Anywho, it’s a peculiar space. It lies somewhere between your heart, your head and your funny bone.

Here are some musings I got out of my, well, muse.


The Irretrievable Regret*

That irretrievable regret?.. stemming from just a second of mindful neglect…
To my left and she-lies on a cloak of mystery bedecked.
And to this end who can say the whys or the wherefores of errors such as these 
or where she may even be
Or was she ever to be anything more than a whole second of living memory released?
Hear the familiar tune return again
as mindlessness trickles back to the deck
and the index finger poised to rehash regret regret regret.

*Inspired by the proffering of a title from a Tinder match named John.

Blind Time

You looked and you liked and divulged the sight of a stranger to your minds eye
and gave a moments attention to a moments perambulation of time.
All these pictures and words then travailed to the inner/outer world of that ever falling tide
That takes all good with bad in one fell swoop 
and castigates the fallen to the “still learning how to forget” curve
and rises to greet the dawn of the “maybe you?”
And ever still the moon never forgets its promise to never not shine.
So Sublime. All in it’s own sweet time.
The Choice

That old sweet shop variety of choosing who wins and who loses
And the in-between choice of maybe s/he’ll do
Skewed with the misconstrued thought of maybe they will choose you too-

All adds up to a soured mood and heady thoughts flavoured with the bitter truth
That this person you don’t really see can never see the ALL of you.
After all, we’ll take the goods if given like a dangling fruit.
And none of it is wholly fully bad or ever full of good
But Just waiting to be tasted by the whole of you.
So be tender of foot when you get what’s tendered out to you.
The simplest swipe..
Can Turn a simple direction into a fatal knife-
A heart shaped box or a weighted cross-
An axis or access to the within and without of these very shapes we’d shiftily make
And all concealing the self; sitting pretty on a dusty shelf.
Here/There/Been/Done with and maybe could do with-out.
This is the tale you may tell yourself when you’re all tinder-ed out.

I Spied

You looked like you would of have expected sunbeams and hugs and love and babies.
You would of have thought me to be thoughtful and kind….most of the time.
I’d be thinking you really should know better!
What makes you think I look like I could be and give all that, being what I am….
Similar to you….22? Right?

Okay, so I lied but I never set this up to imply I was perfect or just made-for-you.
So I’m going to have to swipe that pretty smile right…and by right I mean left…off your face
And because you’ll never even know all of this…Grace…
this is goodbye.

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My name is Ruth. I am an actress, singer-songwriter, writer, yummy healthy (mostly) cake maker and mama to a most beautiful 10 year old boy. Welcome to my world! I am... Living/Loving/Longing. Eating. Figuring it all out & Writing it down. Wandering/Wavering/Weaving. Sometimes knitting. Contemplating and stretching. Have a nosey around. Love Ru! x

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