We devour time
like it’s our last meal
gorging on the future’s ideals
as we forgo the delectable
dessert of Now
we savour dried crumbs of the past
long after the expiry date
unaware they are mouldy and stale
repeatedly consuming it’s poison
all the while wondering
why we feel so sick
inside

To write words over and over
To explain what it feels to love you
To express what you mean to me

No words can be enough for that
And so I always end up erasing them

I placed all my worthiness
into your nurturing hands
and you cared for me
seemingly unconditionally
so I believed you only wanted
the very best for me
until I knew you didn’t
I grieve many losses
but there’s one in particular
within its cervical grooves
that I am deeply entrenched
tugging on my heartstrings
is this yearning to heal
but I’m trapped inside the core
of every infected cell
with the incurable
mother wound

For some it was poetry
   For me, it was bits and pieces of you
   More of you...and less of me
No, it was everything about you

In my hours of bliss
Here in this world full of words
In my time of grief
You’re my poem I’ll always write
and the story of my life

You got me high
Then let me fall
I hit the ground
And now
I don't know
If I want
To get back up
Out of my hell