And I’m forgotten,

I forget it doesn’t take you long

to turn my voice into a whisper

And blur the edges of my body into

a subtle touch that hardly lingered

Simoné Visser


an ode to friendship

I need you to know


I do not allow just anyone to tread through my


I need you to know that you’ll never understand your value

and what I’m willing to do for you.

I need you

to know

that the sun does not


without me thinking about you.

You’re part of the movement in my day,

part of my reasoning and


I need you to know that I need you

in my life,

among all the bullshit.

Simoné Visser

in your smile

In your smile, I saw roses bloom. I saw the sun fall from her thrown, in awe of you. The waves slowly bowed, minute after minute, silently approaching your serene presence.

Do you know that they whisper about you?

Do you hear the silent breeze aching to touch your youth? Feel the stars gazing at you, the creaks in the trees twisting after you?

Do you know that they whisper about you?

Simoné Visser

A door wide open

The tears still sting when I recount my regret. Retell the story of when I could’ve left, when I had the opportunity, a door wide open. Yet, I saw it as shut, in a zoned out, confused moment.

I still hold the tears back as I try to find comfort in another recollection of the story. Hoping it would sound less horrifying with the next time it leaves my lips.

They still don’t understand.

Neither do I.

Simoné Visser


Look at all this sadness in everybody. I swear I could touch it, and it would feel like ice. I’ve had to avoid one too many pairs of pleading eyes – it hurts to peep inside.

Look at all the broken people wearing their pretty smiles. I swear not one of them have a perfect life. I swear I’d cry for every story told. Someone cried to me that the worlds a terrible place – at only 14 years old.

Look at me and tell me how I should not weep when thinking of all the hurt being suppressed. I’ve been digging in graves to try and let the demons free, but there’s too many people and not everyone’s willing to dig that deep.

Please, look at me and tell me why you’re on your knees.

Simoné Visser

Flickering facade

All these lights, a thousand lies hidden in the darkness of their flickering. How entrancing a facade, when Radiohead echoes their piano melodies in the car and I lose touch of where I am and where melancholy’s road bends. I forget what blue feels like below all these passing orange-reds. Am I moving or simply feeling the sensations whirled up in a dream. Is it purely an awakening – shining as the green light waiting ahead?

Simoné Visser

sweetest darling in red

Lady in red, how sticky do your fingers feel? Ever so slightly burnt from touching what you know you shouldn’t, but could. How sticky do those scorched fingertips feel grazing against your pouting lips?

And you’ve hardly touched it.

Will you feel the burn for the warning it is or feign control to your self-deluded mind? Are you ready to create a stickier mess than before? Have you ever thought to stop the times the fiery sting crept through your nerves and told you; no?

Dearest darling with seduction painted on your lips, do you ever tire of burning your fingertips?

I doubt by now that those tears have any worth. How many people know where those curious hands have been?

Sweetest darling, you know you’re not as innocent as you seem.

Simoné Visser


Could I not avoid the trap? Your eyes pleading for it all, weaving through bookshelves, avoiding rules, luring my lips to yours. Sneaking past curious gazes, moving closer to your prey. Stirring up a storm inside of me, with a look playful yet wanting, intense. Moments out of a storybook, a subtle chase. Stranger, how did you capture me, how did you catch me so quickly? How did I collapse into arms I’ve yet to know? So willingly, desperately.

Was I purely a victim of perfect timing?

I still find myself seeking out those moments, in more strangers, more unfamiliar faces. But the moments don’t feel the same, don’t stir up the same feeling deep in my belly.

Stranger, could we ever make another perfect day together?

Simoné Visser


I long for tragedy. So I may voice the pain in words melodically arranged. So I may feel what it is to live, forever seeking sunshine.

And although I enjoy the light I bask in, and put my knees to the ground in thanks, life wouldn’t be as shiny if there weren’t clouds to rain down on me once in a while.

I long for tragedy so I may hand it over in a poetic package. So I may feel more than just the warmth of sun and contentment of a late Sunday afternoon.

Simoné Visser

sunken ships

We used to have late night conversations through my burglar-barred window, we were on that movie shit. And we both went and fucked it up so bad, fuck, never had any regrets before but, I had to decide to regret that.

Imagine if we used our heads and avoided the bullshit. Perhaps I could’ve still had your back, perhaps you could’ve had mine.

I know you need somebody to make sure you’re alright. And I’ve been avoiding you, yet wondering, hoping you’re good.

Regardless of the mess we made, you’re still that person I wanted to pick up the first time I saw you fall.

Simoné Visser


I’d like to believe the theories that make things seem more okay. I’d like it all to make sense before I collapse into decay.

You said there’s no need for knowing, you said it’s all alright. You said that what I don’t know is how I’m able to sleep at night. You told me not to scratch for answers, to just live for what feels right. To lose myself in moments and not in thoughts of things I don’t understand. Said if things get tough I may squeeze your hand as hard as I can.

You said you’ll be my comfort, you said I shouldn’t fear. Said it’s time for coffee and a croissant, that its time to get away from here. Here in these four walls that hide me from the day, these ceilings that hang as low as my spirit on cloudy days.

I loved getting lost, kissing those coffee flavored lips, and thinking of nothing with you on the porch, your cigarette lit. I loved listening to you read to me, poetry and sometimes just tabloid shit. I loved your voice comforting me, and thinking; this must be it. This must be what it’s all about.

Serenity is adopting optimistic ignorance instead of doubt.

You taught me there doesn’t always need to be something to say. Taught me that rhythm and blues is sometimes the best way to make the blues go away. You said you’ve got me no matter what, but you can’t promise that you’ll stay.

Yet it felt like it might just be me and you forever those times you’d bring home sunflowers on a rainy day.

Simoné Visser


I remember that time we collapsed below the autumn trees, the leaves floating above as golden as the unique little specks in your eyes. There was no breeze to be felt, no sound – besides our deep breaths from running through the thigh high fields of weeds. Terrified of what may or may not be lurking among our frantic feet.

After you caught your breath you sighed, asked me what life would be like if we had more time to be children. If we weren’t so quickly polluted by this world with it’s dark influences surrounding our large, absorbing eyes. Our ears wide. If we were allowed to grow up at our own pace, sheltered from all the bad influences and prejudices. If we had a choice, would we really choose to grow up as quickly as we did? If the internet had no hold on us and bullying was not a thing, if circumstance did not have us forced to raise ourselves and siblings – would we be as unknowingly mature and wise?

I pondered, I agreed, but I drifted off as you continued your rant, reminiscing, drifting off on nostalgia. I stared at the blue beyond the rust floating above and tried to pinpoint the exact instance I was forced or chose to grow up. Was it when moma went through the worst? When I had to pretend I understood? When I had to pretend I didn’t know for the sake of accommodating peace? Was it simply when I turned seven and my little sister swept into my world so unexpectedly? And I suddenly had to understand that the world no longer revolved around me? When my age seemed significantly greater and I realized that i’d have greater responsibilities once I became my older self, ones that this little sweetheart will never know. That I’d have to be the strong, supportive, protective one, to protect her fragility and innocence?

But no, I already sound so grown up, at that time I already understood so much. Was wisdom simply ingrained, was growing up purely a consequence of it?

I drifted back as I noticed you get up. You asked me to jump into the pond with you, and to forget of the days of opportunity where we could’ve taken our youth back. To rekindle the light that somehow blew out so quickly back when we were five, or seven or, twelve. To forget that beyond this capsule of quiet and nature we were considered grown ups.

And I jumped, your hand in mine, into the murky waters, ice cold. The art of forgetting – seemingly nostalgia’s sweetest cure.

Simoné Visser

do I stay?

I found myself falling through waterfalls. Drowning beneath the weight of a soothing force. Unable to breathe. To scream.

I found myself blinded by external tears. Salty and clear. Desperate for the days when my eyes stung with the heat of sun and not such, sadness.

I found myself floating, below it all, inside it. I found myself asking, do I stay?

Do I keep to the depths and see how long I can hold this breath of anticipation and neglected hope? I couldn’t feel the sunshine, even when it burnt my face. I couldn’t touch the warmth, I still found cold in every warm embrace.

Do I stay where my tears can’t imprint on my face? Where water swallows it as soon as it surfaces, like it never existed in the first place?

In the depths of sorrow, drowning, senseless to the pain surrounding me, I found myself asking, do I stay? Do I wait it out, become the rain?

Simoné Visser

understanding regret

I found a pain that hurt more than anything I’ve experienced in the past. Pain that seeks affection in places where I’ve lost myself in moments I should have avoided.

It’s forever me and my mistakes. Brewing my own demise. My downfall is my own doing, I’m the reason I trip and collapse.

I debilitate myself with regret. I know that moments can’t be undone. And I despise that truth.

I built my own trap, put my heart in a place where I’d never get it back. And I could not understand why. Why you had no intention yet ended up with my burdens.

I lost myself in a moment thinking good would come from a content day.

I found myself dreaming up an ideal as if this life accommodated happy endings. As if simple times could stay that way.

Simoné Visser


That darling, she’s a storm. She’s the the dark rolling waters drowning all peace. She’s shadowy clouds with silver linings unseen. The unhappy days that leap as soon as the sun creeps upon your cheeks. She’s the bitter taste so unexpected, from a glorious fruit so unsuspecting.

Simoné Visser


Not so pretty but all the boys still want a taste. Not a fan of the attention, but still refuses to let it go to waste. Disappointed that her body is all they want but, at least a part of her feels wanted. At least it’s cause she’s desirable that she’s taken for granted. She finds temporary approval when she’s with another beautiful asshole between the sheets. She finds acceptance that lasts as long as he does, though this acceptance feels shallow and cheap.

And in the morning, he wants her out. In the morning regret and doubt lingers about. In the morning her dreams find the light. She was only good enough for the night.

Simoné Visser

just, let me be

Will you do me a favour, tell me a lie? Say that you didn’t do what you did. Say that you didn’t mean it. Better yet, don’t apologize, like there were no mistakes made. Like you didn’t betray me, just let me have one good day. Don’t come by, don’t touch your knuckles to the door. Don’t try to look me in the eye, with those sad eyes of yours.

Just let me be.

Let me pretend, that I still have love for you, that I still have a friend. That your stupidity is not the end of such a long lasting friendship.

Don’t try to hand over your apologies, as neatly wrapped as they may be.

If I don’t acknowledge what you did today, today you have not hurt me.

Just let me be. Just let me pretend that today is not the day that you have wronged me.

Simoné Visser


Now is genuinely not a good time to intrude onto these roads that weave through the emotions my heart supposedly encapsulates.

I will not beg you to tread lightly, I will not warn you of the tender spots as you approach them and trod all over it. I will sit in silence, not acknowledging you or the space you have entered – the thoughts of pain muted by default. Until you’ve reached the deepest, most vulnerable spot and initiate a ripple of emotion.

And there, you’ll see, a child exposed by means of tears. The face of maturity dripping away as everything silenced finds it’s voice.

Oh and I dare you not to fear, not to regret the time you went and spent your energy on trying to uncover what this perfectly happy face has to bare.

Simone Visser


Listen, tell me what your days look like. You seem like you’re doing okay, are you?

Tell me what time you set your feet on the floor. To get up, does it take all of you? Do you have your breakfast, do you shower first? Does it take all of you to do either?

Do you care about your outfits, carefully brush your hair? Do you dare to look into the mirror? Do you put your shoes on with a sense of anticipation for what the day may bring, or sink into them unwillingly?

Do you even make up your bed, open your curtains to let sunlight in? Or do you keep your room as a reflection of what’s going on inside of you?

Do you like things unkempt?


Tell me what your days feel like, you look like you’ve got it all together. Do you?

Simone Visser