Only my words touch you
Were that it could be my lips

Before
When concrete sweet lips
Put me to sleep

Fragmented
Fragile
Moments of happiness that
Slip through my outstretched fingers
To fall between the ocean waves
Splashing into the depths of your dark hair

Even now I could say your name
So easily it could slip from my lips
A precious thing

Forget it

Forget
The shadow you throw
Sketched out in front of the sunset

Your voice
I could write each
Silly
Common
Useless word on my skin

The cloluds are cut from construction paper
Orange red and yellow
The sun is falling to the sound of your laughter
Each breath I watch
The rise and fall

The smell of your perfume
Skin
Fingers
eyes
eyes
eyes
eyes
eyes
eyes
green as ivy
Stitch by stitch
Sew the seams
Of a heart
Once broken

The birds are singing before I’ve found my way to sleep.
I’ve curled myself around my waiting dreams and a purring cat
But something inside me won’t stop,
There are words struggling to be freed from the confines of my skin
And so, I turn on my laptop and dutifully type.
I must let these words write themselves, lest their nagging never cease.
I am a servant to the stories bottled up in my head.
Sometimes they send me on great adventures to amuse themselves.
Sometimes the stories throw me into crazy situations, make me go home
With wild men, or salacious women.
The stories will only be satisfied by excess, rebellion and insanity.
Am I these things? Am I this wild being?
This night sprite?
A slave to the foolish urges of unwritten stories?
Yes.
I have chosen to run the winds and let down my hair, long and luscious
To throw myself urgently into the chaos of living
To be always on the precipice of being and creation.
For I want stories to spill from me like blood from my veins,
Or breath from my lungs.
I want to be the greatest story I’ve ever told.
I want one day to lay on my dying bed, laughing at the things I have done.
I want my memory to be a reason to dance and to scream,
My name an abbreviation of cautionary tale.
I want always to burn with passion
And never deny the heat between my legs
Or the inspiration in my heart
For I am the story of a wild woman.

I traced a map across your senses
penned a sonnet in flesh
Under setting noon day sun.

The scent of forgotten nostalgia;
A tinge on the breeze
A speckle on a stone
A whisper through the city
Where we no longer roam.

And auburn locks
In golden light
Brought music
to the dead silent night.

My lover is a nightmare

From which I wish to never wake.
Oh but if only I could change
The landscapes of our dreams.

To brighter days I plot escapes,
But always it seems,
His darkness is our fate.

I imagine us free
And happy whilst he
Plunges into grief.

It is as if his mind
Is a bully
A taunting thief,

Always ready
to remind me
Of the shadows that we keep

Yet if you were
To tell me we are asleep
I would clench shut my eyes
And refuse to rise.

For it may be dark,
It may be frightening
But at least we are not apart.

I want to make love with you
wildly, savagely, viciously
insatiable need crowds out all thought
except for how you feel to me
it's more than lustful carnal craving
raw passions threaten to explode
we're one, together in that moment
senses burning, overload
hearts pounding, muscles shaking
salty sweat, bodies aching
driven into breathless frenzy
release, that moment stopped in time
once more, to feel that you are mine

I know it's hard, but I wish you could admit it.
I did. You should.
I wish for you to live your life how you should,
but to do that, you need to admit to your problems,
otherwise we can not help.
I know what you have, I can see it, I have been there before.

I have been there, at the deepest spot, and now, looking down I can see you there,
frantically trying to piece things together, knowing you don't have a real "self",
knowing that you are only ever what your OCD makes you
But I knew something which you do not, I knew I had it
And I asked for help

I wish for you that you will listen
I don't know how it must feel for you,
to be the woman that once was looked up to hear her own daughter
tell her that she is depressed,
but please, I wish for you to once again be the one I look up to, by admitting your problem
Of course, I would look up to you, I would not lose any respect.

I wish for you to live your life without this
I could barely survive sixteen years with this, yet you have  survived forty-seven.
I wish you won't have to be upset when your own husband tells you.
I wish you knew we are trying to help.
You say that all your relationships are falling apart, but I know that it is not you speaking.
I wish you could see. Please.

You do not know me.
You may never know me,
hero.

But you saved me
And I wouldn't be here
If it weren't for you,
hero.

Maybe some day
I will tell you in person
But until then
This is for you,

Letting you know
How grateful I am
That you kept me my life,
hero.