you wiped all my tears,
and made them your own,
my face in your hands,
no greater a home.
but now that you're gone,
i face it alone.
your side of the sea,
you're safer in rome.

dont remember your voice,
dont remember your face,
the degree of your breath,
or the heart that i chased.
what once caused me pain,
my mind cant create.
i stayed for too long,
that much i can make.
no comfort in loss,
of what i forgot,
i guess time made its lesson,
my heart was well-taught.

In purple checked dresses we are confronted
Behind a piano sits ‘Miss Creak’ head of house
She has one bad eye, unfixable from childhood
But plays beautifully perched on an oakwood
And fabric stool. This is our secondary school.

On the wall above the piano is a framed print
‘Madonna of the Meadows’ by the artist Bellini
I pushed a drawing of a couple intertwining
Under ‘her’ door knowing she never would have
But a boy may have felt affection for ‘that’ affliction.

Here we all ate meals, did fashion shows and sang
I was glad my dress was purple not orange or red
Went better with my blue eyes and blonde hair
The rest of the school diveded into coloured checks
To represent Shakespearean female characters.

Just opened in Wandsworth a new comprehensive
Serving all abilities, behaviours and nationalities
Cordelia, Beatrice, Juliet, Katharine,
Portia, Rosalind, Olivia, Viola a rather unsuitable
Vision for such an uptake of adolescent froth.

Miss Creak was, kindly, I wish I had always been.

and so today i drew open the curtains of my ribcage and i brushed the dust off my heart and i forgave you.

— an excerpt from a letter to you

Mental illness is like burning paper in the daylight.
You can hardly see the flame, but the pages disappear.