I am soft.
Soft like a peach.
Peachy like a peach.
Curvy,
pinkish,
yummy like a peach.
Soft like little kisses.
I love little kisses.

Strong.
I am strong like a girl.
Fight me, I bite,
not just peaches.
I am strong
of tongue and heart
and arms and legs.
Strong like carved muscle.
I love my muscle.

This is what I am now;
silver hoops and
wet wavy hair.
Naked.
Tan lines and stripy scars.
More bright thoughts than dark.
With a star, a chain and some string.
Broken wrist,
quelque fois je suis triste.
Big big family,
small small dreams.

I want to be this
wet white dress
hanging alone on the line,
on such a gentle
Sunday morning.

Why do I want to be this dress
so badly?
Every time I glance it’s way
I’m surprised with the jealousy I feel.
I must be jealous of its peace,
I suppose.

It has no need to do anything
all day long,
except hang there
and sweetly dry
in its own time.

I was prescribed
hot chocolate
by a woman who let me
cry in her chair
on two occasions.

On bad days
I make myself have a hot chocolate
not because they’re particularly my favourite drink,

but because having this hot cup of
sugar
makes me feel like I’m doing something
to comfort myself
when I don’t know what else to do.

Twisted tummy
24 hours to get to you
I cannot chew
or swallow
or drink properly
it is all soggy cardboard
dans ma bouche.

Before I get to you
my heart stammers
a million times a minute
and I cannot
for the life of me
relax one little
bit.

Slow and steady
I attempt to breathe
but my body won’t be fooled
it knows you are nearer
to me.

je ne suis pas là
I'm nowhere
il y a des cordes à chaque extrémité de moi
I suppose I'll feel this forever now
parce que je ne vais jamais couper les cordes
no matter where I am, I will always be far from the other.

I imagine her skin is like
the sun,
as it caresses my body
saying warmly:
-I am sorry for the winter,
and for leaving you cold.
I am back now,
I am here.

I imagine her lips are like
mine
and when we kiss I’ll feel as if
I’m falling
gently
d
o
w
n.
Dizzy with desire.