i burn myself,
cover limbs in dirt

wrap my shoulders in cloth
and bury the dead.

bury the aching.
and the singe.

suffocate myself
by closing the coffin lid.

hope it will smother
the scent of my burning flesh.

i'm tearing hot flesh from warmed bones,
this is not living.

i do not know how
to extinguish the flame of you.

i would rather burn
then drown in the guilt of letting you go.

there's half eaten cake here.
remnants of its body
thrown onto small plates,
forks laid atop them.

empty bottles of cider
stand like bowling pins,
one stumble and they'll topple.
(much like us, one stumble and we'd fall).

drunken laughter,
spoken and unspoken admissions
fill the space between
silence and sleep.

and i wonder if years ago,
i hd made a different choice,
if this is still
where i'd be.

it was a wednesday.
i was driving to work and i thought
‘it is such a bright day today!’

no i didn’t.
i thought,
“it is such a bright day today.”

the sun's reflection off of other cars piercing my eyes,
something burning at the back of them as i try to look through the glare,
all dangerously obscuring my view.

(stop trying to sear my wounds shut when all i want to do is let them bleed)
(just let me bleed)

‘take me back to winter,’
i thought.

maybe then i can fall apart without also being burnt alive.

let them love you this way:

with long drives to far away destinations
with the sole purpose of finding a beach
that feels right underfoot.

with car park crying
and laughing and debriefs
that echo long into the night.

with celebratory drinks
and pub feeds
and sometimes the odd fancy dinner.

with mid week check ins and soup left on door steps
messages of poems and songs that make them think of you
(i need you to know that you deserve to be thought of)

with hands soaked wet
by dishes you didn’t want to wash
and with blankets pulled up to chins.

let them love you this way.  
softly and in all the ways that count.
all they ways you haven’t been loved before.

what if my walls are too difficult
to knock down?

what if my ribs are bulletproof,
will you still aim your gun?

what if i am shooting
and the distance is only there

to protect

you.

will you still love me
if i am slowly killing you?

will you still love me if all of my darkness
is in your hands
as if saying,

“here. here is your death.
let me **** you”?

i won't ever give you half of me,
or any portion other than the whole.

i will tell you everything,
all in the same breath.

i am sorry
i can not separate myself
into bite-sized pieces.

but it is not my fault
that you never learned
to chew.

bells echoing into the mist.
i must dig and dig and dig.
a life trapped in a small wooden box,
will soon and surely, forever be lost.

the bells ring, someone breathing alive again
grave diggers throwing soil
right over old and sore shoulders.
down and down and down they must go.

the bells ring again,
alive in my head,
memories buried, now suffocating,
i must unpack, all of the rot.

i pull the string,
and here the dull and quiet ring,
quick breathes, light descends
and I let death take me again.

worry about you.
                               now.
                                        get through this.

focus on surviving.
                                  on making it through.

the rest is just dust.

                                       and i promise,
                                                                ­  one day,
                                                                ­                  this will be too.