As well as being a place to indulge my love of Hipstamatic and iPhone photos, this is a blog of images and words. Of little vignettes and quiet corners from a place in my head, a place I call The Moth House. Of significant, and also small, happenings there, the wanderings and musings and sad reveries of it's occupants, The Parted Lovers.

Saturday



He took what solace he could find,
spending long desolate hours walking the fields,
sitting in the church,
letting the music there transport his very soul 
to such magnificent heights, where all sorrow fled 
his heart and mind.
But each time, upon opening his eyes
his ruined heart was cleaved in two again at his remembering.

Friday



Increasingly he felt adrift.
In fact, at times positively lost.
Even work no longer held his fascination,
consumed as he was by dark thoughts of where she may have gone.

Wednesday

Some days, if she thought about his beloved face
 she almost could not remember
why she had even left,
and regret clutched at her heart
until she could no longer breathe.