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Anne May 2021
Butterflies
who once danced
inside my stomach,
crawl their way back out.

How am I supposed to say
I don’t love you anymore
with a throat full of bugs?
Anne Apr 2021
You were already dead
by the time
I was planted in your soil.
Your story is one told to me
through grainy photographs.
Echoed whispers of
peripheral port cities.
Somewhere lovingly untouchable.
My home was once alive.

My stomach lurches
while picturing these
hollow streets,
once filled with laughter.
The harbour
bursting with smiles.
Each neighbour,
a family or friend,
usually both.

How I love this island!
The salted summer's breeze,
hand woven scarlet autumns.
Wild flowers dancing
atop cliff-sides,
free for us
to admire and absorb.
Absorb we did.

I swear my bones
are made of sea-glass.
How could they be
made of anything less?

In their stories,
you are a fairyland.
A cosmically unified olden wood,
dipped in Scotch
and swaddled in wool.

Yet your branches rot,
thinner and damper each year.
Soon the whispers
will be stale air.
No one will be left
to tell tales
of your beautiful youth.

Everything dies.
How I once wished to see
you in your prime.
Even in your postmortem existence,
you've given me
mud to stick my toes into.

I see you
melting into the sea.
I smell your flesh
being swallowed
by bottom feeders.
You are a wonder to me
all the same.
I can't imagine growing up somewhere more beautiful.
Anne Apr 2021
berry stained grins,
gentle beings.
dialogue so fluffy
we float right through.

through the walls,
past our flesh.
comfortably distant from
picking at sticky bones.
we make the rules here.

milky whites,
and god those muddy doorways.
whiskey bottles softly napping
upon the river's clay.
summer music cracks through,
glowing like starlight.
were you always this beautiful?

our halloween house,
bigger than enough for two.
even the heaviest of winters
swallowed like salt and cream.

who knew it'd be this easy?
i don't miss eating fingernails.
you are all i have,
and you are all i need.
the way he makes me feel is something so strange and new. trying to figure it out but i don't know what to do with these feelings.
Anne Mar 2021
today i will
listen to you
talk about songs
you wish I knew.
i will listen to them
at your will,
my ears can bleed
even still.


tomorrow i will
listen to you
ask about foods
you wish I would chew.
i will listen
to your advice,
let you shovel
spoonfuls of rice.


everyday i will
listen to you
cry about breath
you wish I drew.
i will listen to you
weep & whine,
we'll live this dream
one nightmare at a time.
Anne Feb 2021
last night you touched me
and it made me cry.

my damp cheeks baffled you.
your stare was one of terror,
one of guilt.

my love,
it is only me.
my corpse is the evil one.

you unraveled your hand,
mine for the taking .
I wanted it,
a safe place.
I refused.

you kept it there,
open invitation,
just in case.

you sang me songs til'
my lips could curve again.
you stroked my hair,
crumbling to dust
between your fingertips.

i wish i could be better,
for you,
for us both.

in my dreams,
i can be her.
i am your soft place to land,
somewhere to call home.

in your arms,
i am only human.
tiny and decaying,
a crybaby through and through.

last night you touched me,
and i found myself trapped
within that frigid august.
underneath those mint sheets,
underneath him.

i need to you to believe
that your crybaby,
is more than just
a sad song to sing.
i need you.

dimmer every second,
the light behind my eyes
still smoulders everyday.
for your sake,
i will fan its fire for evermore.

tears may freeze this winter,
but i vow to be your blanket someday.
trauma is a funny thing
Anne Feb 2021
I've been here before.
Hands on waisted time,
something familiar;
something bitter tasting.

You say that you love me.
Love.
How could that be true?

Sometimes I wonder if you even see me at all.
You see the parts you like,
you eat them up for breakfast and
let the flavour sit on your tongue all day.

What about the ugliness?
I know you see it too.
The monsters under my bed,
my creasing forehead.

I want this to work,
I want us to thrive;
but I no longer have time to waste.
I can't afford to lose any more of myself.

You push too much;
all I've ever known is pushing.
I don't want that anymore.

You are kind to me,
and that's worth a lot.
I don't take that for granted.

My sweet boy,
so soft.
I never want to hurt you.
Let us be careful,
okay?

Keep singing me songs,
and I will keep listening.
This could be something special.
Proceed with caution,
but please,
proceed.
Anne Jan 2021
there is a light in your eyes,
a spark i once knew well.
may it never go out.

may your fire only grow,
may it keep you warm
through the winter.

how could i ever trust a stranger?
i don't know,
but
how could i ever look away?
i don't know.
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