You mispronounce my name
You forget I'm lefthanded
I think this is just me
I think this is one-sided

Your warmth has dissipated
It left a hardness
Inside my chest,
Like a plum
Now pitted and pruned
But I still hope
To see you soon

And she ran
through the hollow peaceful night
a juxtaposition
to her mangled thoughts
and indecisions

She ran
hair un-brushed
the laces of her tattered Vans
untied
She ran bra-less
She did not give one ****

She ran to her mother's
old hatchback
away from men who longed to hold her
but didn't
from the abilities
that escaped her
diluted by the thick fog of apathy
that never lifted

And she drove through the dark
the radio dead silent
hearing only the crackles of
her own whimpering
Wondering
why God broke her so
Why the stars were misaligned

Through the windy roads that
would otherwise thrill her
but now

Until the bonnet
Passionately kissed the gum tree
POW

It is hard to keep my thoughts of you sterile

I am gathering each grain
of sand to mix with the cement
For my broken spine

I am chipping rusted iron
And digging my outstretched
Fingers into the earth
For new ore
For my lifeblood

I am rewiring my heart
Waiting for each electron
To seep out of the new battery
Because there is resistance
In my familiar comfort in apathy

I need resurrection
I need to be human
Not a clone machine
Not a has been
Do I dare to hope again

I feel like the plastic cup
that held your water
in a soul-less waiting room

I feel like the joker
in your deck of cards

I feel like a notch
on your belt that welted
my newly softened heart

I feel like the cigarette
that dirtied your teeth
and was followed by another

I played love like Russian Roulette
I should have listened to my mother

We greet each other with apologies
Followed by instantaneous forgiveness
Silent, mutual
Screamed with half-smiles
Shy and sweet

We are polar in circumstance
From birth and forever imposed by this
Society
but we are connected by the meridian
of silent looks, obvious telepathy
but we are too rational for that

You are explicit with your shame
Your debt to me
You apologise twice more
“I’m sorry I cannot give you time”
“I’m sorry you are lonely”
A benediction,
“I hope you are not stressed”

We both know why you are sorry
You are the one
With the white picket fence
The obstacle
While I am free but kept wanting
You are sorry we only met now

I reply with my best grin
Feign confidence and
Reward you with my most beautiful laugh
Carefree; that would fool most people
But we are not most people
You know how I hurt

You are sharp
Like freshly clipped nails
I am not; I’m only beginning
But I am the loom that slowly weaves
The frays you’ve snagged
I am the carrier of your hopes
The executor of your will

So I write this poem
To keep me warm
in cold evening train rides and
The general banality
A fan-fic, of the thin pamphlet
That is our fleeting meet

I know you want to read me
Like the latest best-seller
You see clues, a blurb
My handwriting, erratic like yours
But more forceful
The authors, films
And tortured rock goddesses
I adore

My English Lit textbook
hidden in my drawer
dog-eared And scribbled
at Lessing, Rushdie and Joyce
I know you read it on Sunday
When no one was at work

Last night I covered my face
With a clean white sheet
And pretended to be your bride
I’d stand in front of headlights
Just to see your shadow
By my side