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Promises are not meant to be broken, Promises are meant to be kept. I feel like a five year old child, being told they can have a 99 after a day at the beach. Yet my hands are'nt covered in drizzled melted whipped ice cream, and sand is'nt clinging to the residue as it starts to form some kind of magical adhesive.

Yet you left. Packed up, moved on, hit the road. No matter how you describe it leaving never sounds beautiful. it's a word that holds so much context and meaning, but yet never brings happiness. Leaving - the word should be demolished, beheaded but it never will, too many people use it daily. Sadly.

I feel like those brand new crisp trainers that your lonely aunt that lives with five cats gets you for christmas, which you pretend to like because you pity her too much. But as soon as she leaves, you chuck them to one side like a dog with an old bone.

I don't get why you left Ben and I. Was soaking up the sun in your cheap Primark bikni such a good offer? The sun is going to go and the rain clouds will suddenly form. That primark bikni - the straps will soon snap, it was £5.50 for heavens sake it won't last you forever.

Rodrigo was that his name? The man with a jawline only god could create. He'll leave you soon, who wants primark when you can have CoCo Chanel! Then you'll realise how shit leaving can be.
"I've met this guy on match.com, look how dreamy he is! He's got a villa in Brazil. I'm going to book my flight, I'll leave tomorrow."
That's what you did, got an idea and ran for the hills with it.

I looked at his profile that night.
Tall, I guess around six foot, a frame a footballer would be proud of. Stubble that lightly dusted around the base of his jaw and chin. Standing proudly in front of a bar. The words 'Rodrigo's Hut' dazzling brightly behind him. His tanned skin made his pale pink buttoned up shirt, somehow pop! Or it could be the fact his tarzaned chest hair is ready to escape from a slight pick at his circular button.

I could see why you would want to travel to the other side of the world to be with him. I was jealous of you. I was besotted by him, intoxicated by a long glance of a strangers profile picture. I think that's why I was so angry, you was going to get a life you didn't deserve.

Before you left I had a family, a support system. Ben was such a happy child, he was so full of life, I was excited everyday to see what his future would be. He's really clever for his age. You. You wasn't the most perfect mother, but everybody has their flaws. I was content, but now all I do is wait for a plane to whisk me off into a land full of dreams.

I saw on FaceBook that you had got married. Fairy lights draped along 'Rodrigo's Hut' dazzling as they hit the moonlight sky. Your dress - totally not my taste, but somehow it screamed you!
Full of diamonds and feathers, you looked like a tacky version of big bird from Sesame Street. I looked at the millions of wedding pictures until around 2am and strangely I couldn't help but smile.

I had to tell Ben the next morning that "Mummy wasn't coming home." he wept for hours, but I knew it was a task that had to be done.
I guess the moral of the story is, when you love somebody you have to let them go.

Good Luck with everything.

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Promises are not meant to be broken, Promises are meant to be kept. I feel like a five year old child, being told they can have a 99 after a day at the beach. Yet my hands aren't covered in drizzled melted whipped ice cream, and sand isn't clinging to the residue as it starts to form some kind of magical adhesive.

Yet you left. Packed up, moved on, hit the road. No matter how you describe it leaving never sounds beautiful. It's a word that's holds so much context and meaning, but yet never really brings happiness. Leaving - the word should be demolished, beheaded but it never will, too many people do it daily. Sadly.

I feel like those brand new crisp trainers that your lonely aunt that lives with five cats gets you for Christmas, which you pretend go like because you pity her too much. But as soon as she leaves you chuck them to one side, like a dog with an old bone.

I don't get why you left Ben and I. Was soaking up the sun in your cheap primark bikini such a good offer? 

The sun is going to go and the rain clouds will suddenly form.

That primark bikini - the straps will soon snap, it was £5.50 for heavens sake! It won't last you forever.

Rodrigo was that his name? The man with a jawline only god could create. He'll leave soon, who wants primark when you can have coco Chanel! Then you'll realise how shit leaving can be. 

"I've met this guy on match.com , look at how dreamy he is! He's got a villa in Brazil. I'm going to book my flight, I'll leave tomorrow."

That's what you did, got an idea in your head and ran for the hills with it. 

I looked at his profile later that night. 

Tall, I guess around six foot, with a frame a footballer would be proud of. Stubble that lightly dusted around the base of his jaw and chin. Standing proudly in front of a bar 'Rodrigo's Hut' dazzling brightly behind him. 

His tanned skin made his pale pink buttoned up shirt, somehow pop! Or it could be the fact his tarzaned chest hair is ready to escape from a slight pick at his circular button.

I could see why she'd travel to the other side of the world to be with him. I was jealous of her. I was besotted by him, intoxicated by a long glance of a strangers profile picture. I think that's why I was so angry, you was going to live a life you didn't deserve.

Down the rabbit hole - 10 minute poems

I saw the looking glass, the items scattered across this abandoned lair. 'Drink me' they read, 'Eat me' they teased, a child being pulled in by a child catcher.

Temptations glistened off the walls. Demons became harder to resist. 'One small bite' my conscious begged. But that's when it started, when I started to fret. 

Spinning, whirling, twisting inside, like a broken winged bird falling from the sky. 

The mad hatter screamed, the Cheshire Cat smirked, I wanted to get out but I had been cursed.

I closed my eyes and breathed in tight, I was in hell and I wanted to die.

The caterpillar danced his intriguing chant. 

The queen of hearts looked on as she had won.

"Alice" they called dismantled and faint. 

No answer could be received, no matter how hard I tried.

I dared to touch grace, as the underworld called me inside. 

I'm so near them pearly white gates. 

My fate had been decided, my life was now done. 

Forget about Sleeping Beauty, my wheel had been spun.