darling wouldn't you let me haunt you for a few minutes
when you're sleeping & cold & sweating & dying
I'm a God, the sky and a girl
I'll kiss your mouth until you bleed flowers
and stroke your fingers with my thumb
until you get pins and needles
and ****** every intention you ever had of hurting yourself
I'm merely a butterfly fighting with a lion
in a game of toss and tumble
under bedsheets and in swimming pools
the ****** and the ecstasy that balance on the tip of your tongue
and in the crook of your elbow
are what grounds and holds you
but my love for you is what saves you
sinks you
kills you
makes you crave redemption
but I'm not the daisy or the tulip which you have in the vase beside your bed
I am the cat you always throw out
due to mewing too loud at 3am
and trying to cuddle beside you
just as you drift off to sleep.
I am but a God, the sky, a girl
And you are but a God
The earth
And a boy.

Sometimes I think about how it'll feel when I finally hold your hand.
Or lay eyes on you for the first time,
and it hurts a little bit.
Well, actually, it ******* aches. A Lot.
I ache without you.
I ache at the thought of you.
I can't even breathe.

My dog is barking and my head is spinning again I think I drank too much of that cough syrup, I don’t try and do things like this too myself you know – it just happens – like that one time he tried to kiss me and I said no – but he continued anyway and then that one time following this where he slipped his hand over my mouth and told me not to tell our friends of the ways he touched me then left me. Oh god I’m so sorry I never meant to hurt you I never meant to open my mouth you’re on my mind all the time whenever you are not on my fingertips – tap tap tap – I’ve lost the past week in sleep I’m losing my mind again – my mother did that when she was 19 too, y’know. I’ve lost my beckoning I do not know what I am doing oh god I’m so sorry please open the door, I’m knocking so hard I have to come in, in in in.

I could spend a lot of my time writing of the ways in which you make me feel
but really, nothing can summarise the way that you laugh,
or the way that you smile at me,
when I say something dumb or confound,
or tell you that I love you.
Nothing could represent the tilt of your head,
or the dent in the corner of your mouth
or the way your eyebrows raise in sync with my own.
I can't put into words the feel of the butterflies knocking against my ribcage -
fighting to escape from my abdomen -
jumping and clambering up desperately until they reach the back of my throat.

Nothing can tell anyone exactly how I feel about you.
I think maybe that's for the best.

I think it's maybe the way that you look at me
from 6000 miles away, through a camera lens attached
to the top of your computer,
or the way that you laugh whenever I sneeze
or say something absurd
or tell you that I love you,
or it could maybe be the way you tell me every 4am
how lucky you are to have found someone
who appreciates the arson you committed
back when you were 15,
or how you talk to your mother about me
and that one time I told you about when I
clambered over a fence, drunk and silly,
3 years ago, and sliced open my thigh.

You remind me of the autumns I spent
walking down through the cemetery as a child,
hands clinging to my mothers shirt as I walked alongside her
before things got sour and the season changed.

You remind me of the one time I fell badly
and scraped my knees and cut open my lip,
and cried for the very first time
in front of a girl who grew up to die
at the age of 12
after getting into the car of a stranger
who promised her affection in the form of
bittersweet niceties.