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chichee Nov 2018
We used to take turns tearing down
each other's defences
like the last Christmas present or
an exit in a building fire
And when there was nothing
useful about our bodies except how
they fit against each other.

There are soldiers that don't deteriorate facing
bombshells and fire-grenades but
birthday parties and Saturday nights by the telly.
We could be two of them

Remember how you got when you
just needed something to
hurt
I was your push-pin doll.
Like how children
gouge the button-eyes and rip
the stuffing out of their teddy bears
(but still fall asleep holding them closer than
their absentee parents)


The truth is once,
I would have worn your bruises like
a necklace.

These days, I offer my heart up
on a platter and you don't even want
to spit on it.

All I can do now is will
my fingers to write poetry,
too cowardly
to even pick up the
phone.
Some people love better falling apart.
chichee Nov 2018
Baby let's go
                           tipsy-toed
               Skinny dipping in
         disco lights.
    Drunken mouth in
                              worship,
            you call my body             Jerusalem
till I'm        
spluttering up
                             pool water.


    The ceiling spins
                                 a salsa,
the fridge exhales something
                               obscene when it opens
and the furniture
                         blushes
          I'm jealous of the
                                   love story
                    in my home.


We roll around in
                       bolognese
     I slurp the      happy
            out of
                     your mouth.
                                     Saucy smirks.
Oh keeper of my heart,
                             I chain myself to
your smile and
                              swallow the
                                                 key.
Something whimsical to pass the time
chichee Nov 2018
When people ask, I tell them:
I noticed him because of those
beautiful eyes, all
backlit melodrama and mysteries
waiting to be
understood


The truth is
they were soulless and empty and
hungry for something you
couldn't name.
You're not mine
You said.
No, I agreed.
But I could be.

Razzle-dazzle **** me
fast and ***** into the faux leather
of your backseats.
Darling, we're not in Paris anymore.
You want something fascinating
but I want something real.
We make do.

You say:
I know you're a *******
and I still want you.

with the way it wraps around my heart
you'd think it was a
love confession.

Your teeth marks divide across
my skin like train tracks
You say my name like how
an addict says
morphine, nicotine.
I wonder how long till we crash.

I say:
I hate it when you call me
"Darling"

and with the way you laughed
I almost thought
I paid a compliment

This could be whatever you want it to be
Even if it's not love.
More terrible poetry.
chichee Nov 2018
Oh my petite,
You're a five-course dinner with the works
and a lovesick tantrum.
Your affection
like a hummingbird,
with how it pecks and pecks and
pecks.
Lips faster than one-sixtieth of a second
when you say
You don't love me anymore

But darling, I've got a
letterbox heart
Iron locks and
Silver casts
Filled with postcards
to no address.
Open me up and find
your name scrawled inside
over and
over
and
over.
(Oh Love, I still do.)
chichee Nov 2018
The city knows
I'm no angel.

Please, darling,
I say to the skyscrapers,
If you don't like who I am, you'll like who I could be

I carved a map of Manhattan into my shoulder blades.
Unhinge my jaw into a smile
(oh my what big teeth you have)

The truth is I'm terrible at this.

All these
Working Class Angels, their
rabbity pulse beneath their skins
(I wonder if they taste like it too)

Cruel hungry city,
I feel your streets closing in,
your lamplights lurch forwards
waiting for a ******.
Not really proud of this one but it needed to get out of my system.
chichee Oct 2018
Two years later and
I'm still writing poems about what it would feel like to
strangle you in your sleep,
Just so you'd know how it feels.

I still wake up some nights,
choking
on that time you said
if you could be anyone you'd crawl into my skin
and live in it,
if only so you could call me crazy
and know you were right.

(Only in my dreams do I tell you
that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me)


Sometimes I forget my bed is a time machine,
turning scar to scab and scab to blood.
I'm a magic trick, I'm a razor blade,
turn me sideways and watch them
disappear.
To the people who only talk to me in my memories.
chichee Oct 2018
Once upon a time, Oh but that’s such a boring way to start-
                                                          ­                       Once upon a time.
I was little red riding hood that knowingly stepped
                              onto the wrong side of the path,
Hoping that a monster in the woods
                                              would come and get me, but you-
A hurricane,
           car crashes in slow motion,
                              personified heartbreak-
                                                     ­                    Too much.
Too much applesauce madam? The waiter asked, clean-shaven face bathed
            In the New York skyline, ignorant to the gunfire explosions
                          inside me as I waited for you.
                                                            ­                No thank you, sir.


     “Meet me at the station”,
                                scrawled in messy, love- stained letters
In between the railway roars and the clatters of foreign accent, you've flaked again, like the struck chord of a bass
                        Signifying disappointment like a punch line
                                    Reverberating through my skull.
             Okay, repeat the mantra, one-two-steady-
                                                 ­                                     Okay. It's Okay.

Four weeks later
                                   I had your body pushed up flush against bricks and-
No shut up you don’t get to say anything after you go and shatter me like that
You’re sick do you know that? Lips snarling, heart breaking.  

You’re sick.
So maybe I was the big bad wolf after all.
                   Stairwell bricks glinted off iridescence and
                                                       your mouth in that sad, sad laugh
Studying me like a dream brought
                                                         ­                  to the ground,
Puffy lipped and eyes blown wide like I was on some psychedelic high-
            And you said
                               “You’re still a child with fanciful ideas of love, and the way you cling onto them-
                            Quite frankly, it’s terrifying.”

                                                   ­  Please darling, let me redefine myself
Skip the pleasantries and small talk,
                     scrap the story of little red riding hood-

Once upon a time, I was apology and you were forgiveness
I can imagine inside you, of alarm bells and sunken souls
                 as you listen to the static white noise of
                                                              ­            A dying heart
Hello darling, are you there? Can you hear me? Is this mic working?
          I hate to sound like those magazine cut outs-
                                                           ­         I hate to sound like,
Just another lover, just another cliché-
                                       But you were the matchstick to my dynamite
                                                                ­            and nothing feels better
Than my own self- destruction, so won’t you please
                     Another chance? No?
                                Even Lucifer sometimes longs to be let
                                                      Into the gates of heaven again
I’ve cooked some apology,
          I saved a plate for you

So for the love of god come inside and have some before it goes cold.
A remix of Richard Siken's "Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out", it's a really beautiful poem.
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