Cigarette smoke curls upwards,
spiralling into the ether and downwards into my lungs.
I sit looking at the cigarette packet
reading the warning:
Smoking seriously harms you and others around you
How true.
Except, it isn't the cigarettes that have harmed me, it's your lies.
Did you think you'd be able to keep me in the dark?
Did you think me that stupid?
Tut tut, lending me your car, not emptying the ashtray,
didn't think you wore lipstick whilst driving, just sunglasses.
The colour wasn't mine, too brash.
I take the last drag, watch the tip flame orange, and feel the nicotine calm
I pick the Marlboro's up flip the box over, and smile at the irony,
there in bold reads Choose freedom, we'll help you
if I rang the free phone number will they help me dispose of your body?
Your staining my kitchen floor, the nicotine is staining my fingers.

When I wake up.
In the early songs of birds
And the rest of the world.
I fight for the release of my body.
From the warmth and sanctity of my bed.

It would be so much easier.
To stay there.
Dealing with dreams and light.
But I move. And I step out of my post-nocturne cocoon.
Shedding my nightly shell,
To take the form of a sac of air and water, with a few bones holding me together.

Joints bending, stretching follows suit after refocused eyes.
I hold my breath, counting the seconds, the hours, the day.
Hobbling through each measurement on my brittle bones.
Hoping on the times when I can lay back down and rest.

Repeat.

This pain gnaws at my frail spirit.
Waiting for the final breath to escape.
But in one final effort, my mind takes shape.
Pushing against the confines of routine.
The measurements split.
My dreams unfurl.
And I step out of sleep.

Wings outstretched.

When you get tired
Of roaming the earth,
Will my name be on your lips
As you recall the sweet memory
Of strawberry wine and rose hips
Perfume in the air
You breathed under the stars with me
On the night you told me you loved me,
You wanted to grow old with me
But first you had to go see the world?

Have you seen enough?
Climbed enough mountains?
Sailed enough seas?
*Are you ready to come home to me?

You fell in love with me.

I just hope you jumped.
Not slipped.

I now know
Why little girls crying
Into teddies say they're
Dying.
Now I know that none of
My songs of heart-

Break were real. I had
No idea.
None.

It's like holding your breath
When you know that that car is
Not going to
Stop.

It's the chill down your neck when
You learn that somebody
Just like you
Passed away. Suddenly.

It's the feeling of knowing you're
Losing your grip on the roof of
A burning
Skyscraper. Air.

A soldier, a landmine.
Looking down to see
That your body
Is broken.
Broken.

I now know why country music
Is so close to God at all times.
Why amputees grieve over
Lost limbs.
Why girls cry and boys drink.

It's going to bed, certain that  
The sun will not
Rise in the morning.

There are no words, no carefully stringed sentences, no clever use of metaphors, alliteration, punctuation and full stops,
that allows us to crop and capture,
the rapture,
of love.

Such a beautiful word.
But it is also
Destructive,
Deceitful,
Uncontrollable,
Unpredictable,
And scary.
So simple yet so complex.

I was asked what love, to me, means.

Love, to me, means:

Never feeling alone. When you are with them, or when you are apart.

You want to know everything and anything about them. You want to hear their stories and darkest secrets, and keep them for only you and them to share.

Nothing that pops into your head is not heard by them. They understand. And even if they don't completely understand, it's okay. You know that everything is safe with them. You can confide in them.

To you, they feel like home, your safe place, and an adventure all in one.

You never want them to feel alone or scared, or sad. You wish they could always feel loved.

You want them to always be happy. Whether it is with you, or someone else.

To see them smile.

You feel whole.

This is what love means to me.