I have so much love to give.
I thought a boyfriend might be the answer.
Silly of me, not to see,
That the person that needed my love most,
Was me.

‘Love you!’,
Spoken quickly,
So that the absence of ‘I’ cannot
Be heard.
I, is personal,
I, is suffocating,
I, isn’t real.

I refuse to say
I love you.

The feminine urge to brush your hair,
Make chamomile tea,
Hug you gently,
And tell you all will be well.

Cross, Skip -
Child’s gallop -
Through man’s field.
Field of red lights,
Field of smoke grown.
Eyes closed,
‘Top 10’ beat.
Run,
Run, run run.
Past zebras and yellow punches.
Past Pipers, squares and other shapes.
Get to the green.
Trot, canter, gallop.
Get to nature’s field.

Sometimes,
The thought that keeps me alive,
Is the knowledge that I
Haven’t really lived.

I don’t like you.
Not the things you do.
Or say.
Not the way you smile,
Or the times you choose to laugh.
Worst of all when you scream.
You’re my blood,
But you pollute me.
I never want to be you.
I never want to need you.
I hate you.

What does it mean to
'Fit in'?
Where is this 'in'?
What are we fitting to?
Is there a mould 
I wasn’t told
about.

Why do you want me to ‘fit in’?
Am I not special enough?
Or, is that I’m too special?
Must I wash myself with simplicity?

And what if I don’t.
‘Fit in’.
What will you do to me then?
Axe me from society?
Label me different?

What if I told you,
I didn’t care?
What if I told you,
In a perfect ‘fit’,
I murdered the version of me,
That was desperate to
Fit in.

These fabrics,
Unforgiving, Unkind.
I want to tear what does not fit me.
Scream "Why do I not fit?"
not even a little bit.
Why do these mirrors shine light on my ugly?
"Why am I ugly".

I know you.
Your loves, likes, nerves, sensitivities.
I've heard every story you have to tell.
I've heard you tell them hundreds of times.

You laugh at the same moments,
Use the same phrases.
I've heard them so often I'd be able to tell them myself.

But,
One day,
I might not know you.

I may be the last to hear your stories,
and won't be able to predict your laugh.
Your phrases may be foreign.
And characters and settings will need describing.

I may not be your lifelong companion.
I might not want to be.
And maybe that's ok.

Maybe I'll be a fresh pair of ears
To listen to your new,
Practice-perfected stories.

You tore my heart out of my chest.
Nails clawed, teeth bared.
My haunting demon.
Your tongue has a flair for judgement,
You eyes for shame.
You bat your wings and fly above.
Do you enjoy looking down at me ?
Suddenly I’m small,
Suddenly you can’t see me anymore.
I’m gone.

But I thought friends are meant to
Last forever ?

You placed her under a flame.
That warm, infamously eternal, kiss.
The pressure ignited,
Sparks erupted,
You cheered for the light show
And mimicked its dance.

But you’re taken aback,
When she suggests
That maybe, She's
Burnt out.

I want to craft something beautiful to express how I'm feeling
But I'm too desperate.
I need an immediate release.
There's no time for beauty so
A careless rant will have to do.

Have you ever seen the look
someone gives you
when the get a peek of your darkness.
My Darkness is kept, deep,
this doesn't happen often.
But when it does,
it's enough to make me afraid of
Myself.

I listen to sad songs
because ordinary words don't feel the same.
I search for lyrics that summarise that feeling perfectly,
scratch the itch that can't be itched.
I'm jealous when they get it right in
ways I haven't been able to.

When you look in the mirror and don't like what you
See. They tell you that everyone's beautiful in their own
Way. But I don't want to pretty in my
Way. I want to be pretty in the way that
He likes. That they all like.
I want them to like me.
No one likes me.

I’m the girl who smiles.
The one you greets you with warm eyes,
Asks you how you are,
Hopes that you go far.

But my heart is heavy.
Weighted by the anger that I bottle.
There’s so much of it,
Too much.
I’m going to burst soon,
Very soon.
I’ll be the villain who used
To smile.

I crave anonymity.
In order to be able to say what I truly mean.
With no boundaries,
No judgement.
Because I truly, truly
Want to scream.

When did kindness become uncool?
Blunt and ‘honest’,  a disguise for rude?
It seems you’re proud of your
Hostility and animosity,
Proud of judgement and not forgiving.
You find it funny, entertaining.  
It's not your fault others are so
'Sensitive', they need tougher skin.

I think it’s sad,
I think it's miserable,
To see our understanding of ‘cool’,
Fall so far from the truth.

So, I finally got it.
I almost started thinking I was invincible.
Everyone was dropping like flies,
But I was still standing.
Well, look at me now.

Is it crazy to say that,
I’m kind of relieved?
My fatigue is now ‘legit’.
Need for a pause is ‘justified’.
Staying in my room is ‘government solicited quarantine’,
not hermit behaviour.

No doubt, when I first found out I cried, sobbed even.
I was to be cast out of society.
Now, I am keen to transform my bedroom into a disco floor, an art studio, a music booth, a cinema.
What else am I supposed to do for 10 days
locked in my room with Covid ?

When I picture you,
I picture a big, black, boot.
A force that squashes me when
I trip. That scrapes me off
Like a piece of gum. That
Pushes me off the pavement.

I trust that you mean that you love me.
I trust that you mean that you care.
It’s just that, your love doesn’t mean a great deal
For you are not burdened by longing or despair.
Your love, to me, is a like.
It’s not binding nor Shakespearean,
It’s soft, you find me a delight.
But you have never compared me to a summer’s day.
Nor have I heard a Sonnet grace your lips.
To you, Love is a casual declaration.
We are a ‘situation’
In which you find it appropriate, nay proper
To say I love you.

But you don’t mean to say it, I love you.
At best, your love is a like.

I feel suffocated by the world around me.
As though everyone I know
Has wrapped their hand around my
Throat. A chokehold of a thousand
grips. Every time I squirm,
The grip tightens. Every time
I beg for final release, they loosen
A tad. They won’t grant me
Mercy, an easy out.

So I'm stuck in chokehold.

He noticed that I hated avocados.
That I would push them to the
Edge of my plate of salad.
Every time I saw him he would ask, 

“Are you eating your avocados today?”
I would say, “maybe”.
Because, maybe they would taste better that day.

We played this game for 12 years.
On my 13th year I started to love avocados.
They became trendy.
I spread them on my toast,
They were the dip I loved the most!
But on my 13th year,
He wasn’t here
To ask about avocados.

I have this thing that happens to me,
That causes unexplainable fear.
It feels like a freudian uncanny.
It’s been happening for years,
Since I was a child.
It’s when my mind and body begin,
To move in slow motion, to lag.
In that moment, it feels as though I have surrendered
Ownership of my mind, of my body.

It’s utterly terrifying.

It seems as though you
Jump, at the opportunity to
Show me you hate me.
I sense truth in your jokes,
In your banter.
In the way you switch to oppose me
So so quickly.

I never thought you liked me.
I’m just searching for confirmation
Of it.

I love and loved you.
I tried to protect you
From all who wanted to hurt
You, I was there at
Every tear fall.
But you didn’t want me.
You didn’t want my love.

And now you call on what I
Had in such abundance.
But she’s gone,
She’s withered,
She’s cold, old,
Lost her bold nature.
She breathes no longer,
No warmth, no courage.
She was starved, died
Of a broken heart.

My Love has died.
What you seek is no longer here.
She’s not coming back soon, I fear.

It’s not that I care about him,
Or that I liked him, at all.
It’s just that,
When he didn’t love me,
He made me feel unlovable.

Every time you don’t laugh at my joke,
Every time you look through me,
Every time you don’t ask how I am,
Every time you don’t say hello,
Every time you’re here.
I feel invisible.

I’m grateful.
For your sacrifice.
For years spent at your desk,
Blood pressure high,
Trade pending.
For years spent providing,
Giving, and never spending.

But I wish you had spent,
Just a little more time
Present. Here with us.
Because at home, you were there,
Phone on. Trade still pending.

I wish we had conversations,
Not interrogations,
About life, about my day, about my opinions, or what I have to say.
About films, my interpretation,
About school, my life’s destination.

With you there is no in-between.
It’s figure of authority,
Or you begin to act like a teen.
Keen to make me uncomfortable.

Around you, I rarely feel comfortable.

I’m in paradise.
The sea is aquamarine, a beautiful blue.
The sky is clear, not a cloud in sight.
Birds chirping to a melody, they form a choir.
And yet,
I can’t seem to relax.
I can’t seem to enjoy myself.
I can’t seem to stop myself from crying.
Perhaps if the sea were murky and dark,
If the sky was cotton-filled,
If the birds were in dissonance,
I wouldn’t feel so guilty.

I feel socially awkward.
Everything I say checked twice
Then once again.
Was that weird?
Am I boring?
Was that rude?
Have I told this story ?

I feel uncomfortable,
Unable to be myself.
Myself is mediocre,
I am incompetent,
Me, a joke.
I’m beginning to choke
On words
I lack the confidence to deliver.

I feel helpless,
I’m searching for compassion or mercy.
I tried to impress,
I tried to be flirty.
It didn’t work, obviously,
Or I wouldn’t be here in this state of worry.
I wouldn’t be here.

Right now,
I wish I wasn’t here.

I checked your Spotify to see if you’ve listened to heartbreak songs.
Maybe you even created a playlist of your own.
Is it titled with my name,
Or are you too ashamed to admit
I hurt you.

I guess I just need to know you’re hurting
like I am.

I’m aware it’s my fault we’re here.
I led you on, I broke your heart.

But I hate you for making me hate myself.
I hate you for reminding me of everything I lost.
I hate you for making me miss the way you made me feel.

I miss you,
I don’t hate you at all.

The moon stares at her reflection.
It’s different today.
Today, the people see her half full.
Days later, she is halved again.
She’s unsure which version to believe.
For half the world shouts ‘quarter’
And a quarter shouts ‘she’s empty.’
A phase they call new moon.
But the moon doesn’t feel renewed,
She’s tired, she’s confused.

She’s unsure which version is true.

I do believe that mother’s love
Was modelled after you.
It is the only way,
Your love could be so true.

For I have never witnessed a
Love with such little hesitation,
Shampoo in the eye,
A cut on the knee,
Mother is at my station.

And my home is always carried with you,
With the memories of your voice,
Singing lullabies and soothing my blues.
And with the smell of borrowed clothes and
Everlasting perfume.

I’m desperate to thank you, mother,
For all that you do
And have done.
And in my journey to show gratitude,
I have only just begun.

I told myself I was inhumaine for my thoughts.
For the way in which I wanted to tear you apart and inform you of all the ways in which you ‘****’.
Because, let’s face it, you ******.
But I realised, in a moment of pure philosophy,
That my questioning of my humanity and my recognition of my animosity,
is, what makes me
Human.

1.

She watches as the wails
navigate the open sea,
they disappear under the blue.
She orders her vanilla
ice-scream,
in a bawl and not a cone.
She lies down on the
reclining bench,
positioned bellow the sunshine.

I think she’s trying to tell you
something.

I'm sorry I wasn't there,
Mr judge.
I tore my achilles heel
On a run.

I told the doctor to prescribe
Me some ***.
It's been a while since
I've had my fun.

And though I know it will not
Solve my sorrow,
Nor my fear,
A drink will disguise my
Worry lines and tears,
as Laughter.

Will you sue me for
Neglecting my minor,
Her name, Emotion.
For tort, is what I have been taught.

Or will you understand.
that mine is a mind of commotion.
Tequila, *****
My love potion.

And as potato and sugar become
Addiction and Sin,
I ask that you find it within
Yourself to understand,

We're an act that I can't
Disband.

It seems it's impossible for us to agree.
You, with a respectable law degree,
I, with experience worth writing symphonies
Over

And over again
I turn to wrong.
Today I have paid
with a toll to my brawn.

Thus, All I ask, is,
Will you sign my cast?

But,
At least I’m evolving.

If we hadn’t discovered Gravity,
Do you think we’d feel different?

Perhaps more unique?
Less aware that our relationship
To this earth is mimicked by
every other person
That we encounter.

Perhaps more able?
Would flight not seem so
Foreign
And unattainable,
And would it be less associated with
Aerodynamic engineering,
And more understood as  
Liberation.

So perhaps, we would feel more free.
As though we weren’t being pulled,
And ‘acted on’.
And instead, in ownership and
Powered by
Choice.

A free association,
A weightless laughter,
An endless day.

I would wish the apples away.

On this beautiful summer day,
I question why the sun’s departure
brings such fierce grief.

Why as others, in awe,
Capture photos and spread them
On their instagram wall,
I cannot bring myself to say goodbye.

Perhaps it’s Apollo’s enchantment.
In Ancient arrogance
Did he spell his light,
So in its absence I beg and
praise his name?  

Or, is the knowledge, that without the
Relativity of the sun’s size,
Everything appears so
Large, Troubles heavier.  

It seems to me that the sun
Convinces that I might have some
light of my own.
So that when the sun sets I will continue
To be radiant,
To emit a glow.

Yet as she falls and greets another,
Some miles away,
I seem to rediscover,
That the glow was
Unfortunately, just
A day show.

Every time I start to think
I’ve accepted the goodbye
At quarter past nine,
When the hues of
Pink and purple
Begin to seep through the
Once untainted sky,  
I start to cry.

When I’m feeling lonely
I rewatch old movies
So that at least
I’m in the company,
Of the memory, of
My younger self.

I’ll send you love letters,
Every once and a while,
Just so that you know you’re loved.
And so that on your darkest days,
You can read it,
And have a reason to stay.

I think the world,
chips off pieces of us,
So that we become these unique shapes.

So that, one day,
we’ll find someone,  
Who’ll be able to
Complete the missing pieces.

Stop holding back tears.
Didn’t you learn that dams never last long?
That SubSahara would **** for you water
Be it salty.

To you I’ll preach the cautionary tale of Tokyo.
That the untreated quake or break,
Drowns.

And if, by chance, you aren’t
The cherry blossom that stands
Despite tsunami

I ask,
Beg even.
That you stop holding
Back tears.

I’m not sure when I became convinced the world was full of liars.

You tell me I’m beautiful,
I shout liar.

You tell me I’m smart,
I shout liar.

You tell I’m worth it,
I shout liar.

I’m tired of shouting.
My voice hurts.

You're so convinced
I'm angry at the world.

But my love,
you are my world.

I am certain you don't know
just how much I hate you.
I am certain you would never guess
of the nights spent
cursing your name.

When I face you I laugh and smile.
But as your back turns that laughter
turn to bile.
As your back turns,
I remember you weren't there.
As your back turns
I understand how little
you really care.

So **** the man that make me
so hateful.