I opened up for you
like you were also asking me to
but when I peeled back salted skin
to expose those secrets feathered in
you didn't try to patch the pieces
you didn't come to suffer those creases
and now my bones are all alight
and you are nowhere in sight
I called for you like I wouldn't before
because you had been there at my door
always insistent that I let you in
but now I sit here with weeping skin
this is why I bolt the hatches
set fire to our strings with those matches
push away any who wander near
for there is no love to be found here
if you come back will you find
solace or no piece of mind
I don't know if I can stay
or if you want me to, anyway.
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC
There are eight hours left in the day
yet it's dark outside
where those cars keep tearing past
disturbing the quiet in here.
I'm trying not to feel alone
rattling around in this empty home
but when I caved and I called out
you didn't call back.
Steps have been taken
will your path revisit this place?
I sit in our home and remember
the beginning, in this room
with the cars still racing by
and it was still dark outside
and your arms were around my shoulders
and your heart was shouting yes.
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 11:24 AM UTC
the tv is too loud and my peeled skin
echoes bleeding beaching, I can't get out
and next door are screaming
a riot of colour and life and celebration
hurts so much I am taut of breath,
please I need help but the words
won't trip off my tongue
I can't bear the uproar
water flashing, roaring , oh
god the suffocation with the sound
of inebriation
I am trying but I
can't
stand it
anymore.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 7:17 PM UTC
You are crying out for aid
I can taste the salt
from across the oceans
from across his seas
your sobs are rabid
and my words soft
the only weapon here
against the frothing tide
A whimper down the lines
yes, you have done
what needed to be done
yet the waters are still churning.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 6:15 AM UTC
It is dark outside and
the winter is creeping in again and
you are not here again and
I am here again and
it never ends and
it's dark outside.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
I kneel
kneecaps cracking, head bowed
under the heavy breath of your adoration
eyes ground into the dust each footstep rises
I am dirt-blind
but the crows can see, my ears bleed
how they cry and scream, weep and admire -
they enshrine him; I, unwilling, immortalise.
I keep
my eyesight clouded, looking down
the soil is my church, inadequacy
a mired crown.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
I was sick when we met
and you liked it.
My body was airborne, bones of a feather,
jutting out like a blade for you to
run your fingertips across.
I always left at 4am, half raving mad with
exhaustion, the pinprick bleeding, pale exhaustion,
you closing the door as I fell into the night.
You inevitably commented
on the way my ribs arched, taut rise of bones
leering obscene through lean skin.
They were each a transparent edge,
observed my breath was a desperate pant, I
needed help, not blunt trauma to the lips.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
and then when it comes to it
I am reminded
of the paltry promise each beat brings
come, take my hand
for I offer it
to any who seeks its pledge
willingly, I demand it
for solitary I see no worth
in what it has to give
please, I desire your attention
the play wreaks havoc with he
who vows his last breath
too sublime, his proffer
golden-gilded, open handed
blinding triumph
yet still I plead for more
and despite this
I retain that which
I do not deserve.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 5:55 PM UTC
and those grays, which chafe at dry skin
between intermittent
bursting, brief songs of sunshine
subtle shifts in the light, faces tipped up,
graced in its presence for too short a time
to lift a smile, although I
try.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC