Natt Rozanska  

1988 -   

Poems

Jul 30, 2012

I know I'm rubbish
But you're rubbish too
And I quite like that.

Jul 30, 2012

No one leant me shoes
The day I met you
So I have no one to blame
But myself
I don't think the shoes were really important
They just made me an inch or two taller
And gave me farther to fall

Jul 30, 2012

you always wanted to give a girl a heart shaped lollipop
it's endearing, you say
as a child
i always wanted a boy to give me a heart shaped lollipop
so you do it now
and it's not the same
as we both laugh
and i use the stick to poke down the spliff

Jul 30, 2012

i walked up the drive,
and was reminded
of how little attention
i actually paid to the place
when i had the luxury
of being there.
i never walked the drive,
far too lazy.
just twice,
once there, once back,
two separate occasions.
both at night,
both with company.

i debated hitchhiking,
still lazy.
i picked someone up once.
a third year choreographer.
she was late for a tutorial
and smelt of alcohol.
everyone i walk past has grey hair.
i look out of time.
two years late.
there's no room now
for an art student with a suitcase.

i walked the halls again,
because the door was propped open,
framed with familiar white handprints,
that fit comfortably under mine.
it smelt just as i remembered,
musty, and comforting.
with the paint still peeling on the stair rail,
from where we'd sat for hours,
pulling it off in strips.

i wrote a letter to my room.
the room in which i fell in love,
lost my mind,
and changed my life.
it's just a room.
just a place,
a space.
but so much was shared,
with the air in there.
and i can't explain the relief
that it isn't in rubble.

i hitch hiked back,
or i'd have missed my train.
a lovely man picked me up,
and i felt the drive from a car,
how i remembered it.
we talked about the place,
about it what it did.
he was as upset as i was.
he was the type of person
i'd forgotten existed.
someone who wasn't one of us,
but understood our loss.
a stranger on the street
who felt what i felt.

Jul 30, 2012

Because you have this way
Of looking at me
That makes eveything else
Fall away.

How can I exist alone,
Or with anyone else,
When you have the abilty
To do that?

You have to promise
Only to look at me
Without recognition,
Without revealing anything,
And I'll stop asking questions
Without saying anything.

Jul 30, 2012

So many times,
You fell asleep on my bed,
At noon, or by night,
And I sat beside you,
Rolling a joint,
And everything Was.
A company felt
In the imitations of
Immortality
A distraction,
A perfect waste of time.

Jul 30, 2012

It doesn't matter when we met.
There's no point in starting there,
It wasn't our remarkable day.
There was so much else to distract me
From noticing such bright blue eyes.

We exchanged words on stairs,
Words I've since forgotten.
The ground didn't shake,
Time didn't stop,
There was no spark yet.

The spark came the moment your hand
Rested on my knee,
Caught in a laugh,
That moment you found me looking at the sky
And draped an arm round my shoulder,

Or even before when we shared a bench
Under a blanket of shooting stars,
That's when the air started humming.

Jul 30, 2012

you're an arms length
away from me
only my arm
is lying across
a map of the world
not the folds
of my duvet
and I can't
just wrap the sea
around myself
and curl into you

Jul 30, 2012

I used to be so good
At dreaming
But now they just turn into
Memories of you
Now my dreams are shorter
Smaller
So much warmer
And I can't remember
How to imagine
Something so bittersweet

Jul 30, 2012

I stop existing
Every time you
Leave the room

Jul 30, 2012

Most days I miss you in English
On the worst I miss you in French,
You are missing from me
I am lacking in you
a vital part
as essential as air
as bones
as blood,
A lost immune system
that can't keep illness at bay,
an amputation,
a lobotomy.
There is no single word
that covers a lack of you,
I miss you out of language
But French is the closest,
tu me manques.

I don't speak French, but a friend does, and he explained to me how 'I miss you' in French translates closer to 'you are missing from me' which I think is way more accurate. Nice one French.
Mar 28, 2012

This morning, I woke up in Cornwall, with no idea how I got there.
I couldn't see the sea from the window, but I could hear the birds.
Strangers knew my name, my secrets, my songs.
And I found I knew theirs.
The streets were familiar, but they weren't the streets I grew up on.
I never grazed knees on those pavements,
Or idled home from school past those street signs.
It was a place removed from childhood,
With eyes I shouldn't know so intimately,
With no idea how they became so sure in my mind,
When they shouldn't even exist.

Mar 28, 2012

Don't ever get used to the person you love
Be amazed every day at their hand in yours
There are bones in that hand, strong yet fragile bones
And they're wrapped around yours, your bones
Strong yet fragile
And you've had those same bones for a very long time
So long that you've grown used to them
You've grown with them
Because for a very long time they were all you had
But now they grip onto another hand
Another set of bones
And ohmygod they'rereallythere
In your hand
And you don't know these bones as well as you ignore your own
So marvel at them everyday
For as long as it's taken you to know your own
Because that hand full of bones is just a fraction of what you love

Mar 28, 2012

There's an image I'm trying to make
Of shells
And the wind
And salt in my hair
Of something to do with your name
But more to do with the air
When your face looks away
And there's something about flames
And them not quite blowing out,
Because there's miles to go before sleep.

Mar 28, 2012

It doesn't matter when we met.
There's no point in starting there,
It wasn't our remarkable day.
There was so much else to distract me
From noticing such bright blue eyes.

We exchanged words on stairs,
Words I've since forgotten.
The ground didn't shake,
Time didn't stop,
There was no spark yet.

The spark came the moment your hand
Rested on my knee,
Caught in a laugh,
That moment you found me looking at the sky
And draped an arm round my shoulder,

Or even before when we shared a bench
Under a blanket of shooting stars,
That's when the air started humming.

Mar 28, 2012

So many times,
You fell asleep on my bed,
At noon, or by night,
And I sat beside you,
Rolling a joint,
And everything Was.
A company felt
In the imitations of
Immortality
A distraction,
A perfect waste of time.

Mar 28, 2012

Because you have this way
Of looking at me
That makes eveything else
Fall away.

How can I exist alone,
Or with anyone else,
When you have the abilty
To do that?

You have to promise
Only to look at me
Without recognition,
Without revealing anything,
And I'll stop asking questions
Without saying anything.

Dec 5, 2010

outside his world is cold and solitary
it is warmth
which becomes a church
to hold the storm of life

Dec 5, 2010

Someone’s having a midnight shower,
I’m lying under familiar words,
I don’t know what you’re doing.
I think you’re getting high,
Holding your phone for way too long,
But maybe not.
Maybe there’s a guitar involved,
I don’t mean ‘involved’,
There isn’t a crime.
But a guitar seems likely,
That way you can sit quietly,
Unless you decide to sing.
I hope you sing.
The shower’s stopped now,
I’ll probably fall asleep soon,
I don’t know what you’re doing.

Dec 5, 2010

Last night, I lay in bed picking the snake-like, silvery memories of you from my mind with small tweezers. Every word exchanged, every lesson learned, every heartbeat felt, all came floating away.

I say I, and I mean she. Like when I say you, I mean he. But I am she, and you are he, so they/we fit these characters adequately.

I wondered how I would react to your face, once it had been cut from my recollection. I felt excitement at the prospect of passing you on the street, in blissful oblivion, as you became just another he.

But the one flaw in my plan was you. I was still wrapped around every membrane of yours, even as I cut you out of me, snake by snake. I would stay I, even as you became he.

How long would it take you to realise? Would you take advantage of it? Would you rebuild every memory for me? Would I do any better a second time round, with a complete absence of hindsight?

I kept wondering this until every snake had been cut out, and I didn’t know what I was wondering anymore.

I say I, and I mean she.

 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment