Author: Unique

I don't write. I create. #EveryHeartbeatCounts

Object: The Notebook

I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you on a frosted glass shelf. A beautiful hue of blue sparking in my line of sight. I picked you up and opened you, read the blank lines down a few pages. I envision my words written in blue ink, short-stories, random quotes, poetry and whatever you think.

     The first page on the inside was a subtle marine blue, reminded me of our ocean and depths of each blue hue. I love the colour blue, so I pick you up and buy you. I take you home and sign Unique inside you.

     The date is today and today is special like yesterday, I’m alive! I’m thankful for our universe. I write a few sentences along your light blue lines.

RISK!

Living is a risk we all take every day, my notebook is my notebook and as long as I live, I’ll write away.

   

The Bear & Biscuits

I saw a bear in a cottage rummaging through a jar of biscuits.

I watched on through the kitchen window, admiring the glass jar and how it holds the biscuits within its body.

The bear smelt my sweet aroma, for I had honey all over my face. I had only gone outside to put the bins out, I’m sure I was gone for only a minute. My phone had buzzed and I checked a comment made on www.dameunique.blog heard a noise and turned to head back to the kitchen. However, as I came closer to my kitchen window and saw the most serial image. A bear eating biscuits from a glass biscuit jar. They were delicious raspberry and white chocolate cookies.

     For 13 minutes, I stared through the window of my own kitchen, at this beautiful animal. Delicately stealing cookies from my jar of biscuits, only the cookies! The bear left the other biscuits; custard creams, bourbon creams, jam rings, rich tea, chocolate digestives and surely biscoff.

Coldness from the Gap.

I woke up/I wake up.

I open the window/I opened the window.

I feel the cold/I felt the cold.

I consider the freshness of the air circulating/I considered the coldness of the circulated air.

The actions about I repeat over and over, I let the coldness in and again I start over. I was not aware of the gap until my space felt colder.

Mind Games

When I know you’re a liar, lying to me right now.

Yet, I give you time and attention.

I hear my instinct saying, ‘Unique! What the fuck are you doing? Why are you bothering? You know he’s mentally screwing YOU!’

I love your voice, loved your voice, I adored the attention.

I accepted your lies, for nanoscopic specks of affection.

The Mindgame was a game played by two.

You believed I believed you and I knew the truth.

No Caller ID

You called on the 3rd of May 2020 at 23:53

My phone was on night mode, which means there was no ringing for me to see or hear.

You withheld your number unknown was the information provided.

I don’t know who you are or why you even decided to call so late.

It could have been important? But I guess I’ll never know.

No caller ID, no numbers on show.

Object: The Stove

When I first met you, you were always cold and unwelcoming. I clicked switches and turned hobs and you just wouldn’t turn on.

I eventually saw your bright red glowing rings. So beautiful!

I placed a saucepan on the stove and warmed up some oat-milk, mixed in some oats and sprinkled some sugar.

The Stove, electric. Unknown to me before that day.

The stove, new and a learning curve for me in the ways of the kitchen.

The stove, I burnt a lot of food at the start. The temperature too high always too high but felt too low, to begin with.

Now that we’ve had some time together, I understand what you want and you know what I need.

Our shared memories and the nights you’ve witnessed my greed.

The Stove, are we in this?

Yes! Of course, we are. I’ll cook with you and they clean with you, your elements are my fire.

Home Sweet Home

A roof over your head.

Food in the fridge.

Stop complaining!

Access to hot water, hot and clean may I add.

Stop complaining!

Fresh fruit and vegetables, the word fresh being key.

A warm bed to sleep in, but you want more you see.

Stop complaining.

We’ve been asked to stay indoors, the way I hear many of you moaning, you would’ve thought you’ve been asked to go to war.

Home sweet home.