Laying here, alone,
Listening to people I don't trust and
Making figures out of the darkness,
Ones who want to hurt me

I miss you
You make the blank black
Seem like an extra blanket,
Tucking me in for the night

The only sound,
Your breathing, shallow and fast
But soon deepens and slows
Pulling me into sleep

And yet alone,
My mind plays tricks on me
I think of the worst outcomes
Leaving a lump in my throat

I miss you.

Here in the cold,
With the empty silence in my heart,
The rest of the world rumbles on;
Dogs barking,
Lawn mowers running,
People thumping,
Cars roaring.
Yet I am alone.

Oh, how I wish,
To be able to turn over to you,
Even while you're still asleep;
Mouth open,
Deep breathing,
Face resting,
Body stilling.
Yet I am alone.

There are forces,
The ones that keep us apart,
But we will be together again;
Mouths touching,
Legs intertwining,
Hands moving,
Bodies calming.
I won't be alone.

I see her,
Standing there with
The sun smiling behind,
Pushing through her hair
Like I have a thousand times.

The soft glow,
As everything fades
Away with the water and clouds.
She's all I see,
And all I would want.

She does not see,
Not the way I can
Where the flaws are flawless
Because what is raw
Is real.

I see her,
I hope she sees me.

I am a feminist.
Does that mean I'm the
radical relentless woman determined
to ruin the rule of the man?
Or am I the sweet, soft lass
striving to impress my sweetheart,
because we all know that ‘confidence is ****’?

I am a feminist.
Even though my friends have told me
“I’ve never felt unequal to men”
And the raging facebook comments
on the history of how women are inferior
and men cannot be *****.
Because their opinions cannot be right.

I am a feminist.
When I was 15 I thought I was wrong
for liking menswear, and still wearing skirts.
I was told that if you were assaulted
the culprit could never be caught
because their word speaks louder than yours.

I am a feminist.
When the UK statistics say
that nearly a quarter of men do not think consent is important
and thousands are sacked for just being pregnant.
We are bombarded
by the expectations of looking good
because now your eyebrows your greatest trait.

Why is the eye such a mystery to me
nowhere else can I peer
so far into a persons soul
that I feel like I'm drowning

It's as though that one feature
pulls me in so far
that I have to turn away
before I lose myself entirely

To let down that guard
and allow someone to see
everything that I am feeling
seems like the impossible task

Because inside of the eye
you can see all of me