I climbed the highest building
fighting down my fears
of falling to the void
where I lived without you.
I sat on the edge
risking everything I had
only to show you
how bright the sky was.
I waited there
for you to show up
so I could tell you
the words I kept in my chest.

But I’d fallen asleep
waiting for you
and my dreams
were full of stories
I couldn’t remember.
None of them
looking like you.
They had skin ripped off
from their faces.
Screaming out
painfully blurred words.

And you were there
squeezing my hand
so hard I could feel the pain
running through my veins.
You brought me to the light
where everyone could see us
bleeding out together
and they did nothing.
So, I stood there
let them gnawing on your bones
until you disappeared
appeared in my nightmares.

© W. Donovan


Sometimes I wonder if it was even worth sacrificing so much. Sometimes I wonder if you didn’t do it just for yourself. Because you were afraid of being left alone. You feared that I wouldn’t call you again.

~ letters

© W. Donovan

‘you flow and flow’

Dear Reader,

I got lucky to travel a little more, since I haven’t been back to work full time yet.

These are usually one day trips to places where I can contemplate my life in peace :). That involves a lot of walking tracks by a river and in beautiful dark woods.

Actually, it is perfect timing for travelling as I am collecting poems for my fourth (and last one in this series) book of poems and I decided that nature will be one of the chapters. I’m sure you know that nature has healing properties, so there it is… I might be able to hit the reset button after all.

In case you were wondering, the third volume is almost complete and I plan on publishing it this autumn (!). Wish me luck!

you flow and flow

This picture was taken during one of my walks last week, while the title is a line from a poem I wrote back then.

I hope you hear the river flowing.

Love you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting my writing.

© W. Donovan


Tangled in the stars
that spoke
and asked questions
uncomfortable but lovable
vanished to memories
like a crystal on a finger
cold in the heart
but still vivid
that is broken to pieces
shattered on the floor.

© W. Donovan