You're trapped
In something deep
Deeper than a cistern
You're like a helpless baby
In something deep
Deeper than a cistern
The walls are made of glass
With a sea, beautifully deceptive, within
You try to swim
Fighting a strong current
But you're no match against the tide

You're running out of air
And out of time
How did you get here?
As you look longingly at the top
You remember standing on the surface
Looking lovingly into the deep
Before diving in
How stupid you were!
And now you hate- loathe the deep
How do you get out now?

You try one last time
Pushing
Struggling
Trying to reach the top
Before an undercurrent
Sweeps you back
Confining you to the deep
You cry for help
You don't want to drown
Here in the deep

The man, dressed in a suit
Bowtie on the floor
Shirt unbuttoned, hair ruffled
Staggers to the cupboard
Where just one bottle remains
And opening with a flourish
He wonders how he's ended up like this
As he gulps the sweet poisonous liquor
He can't help but feel trapped-
Trapped in the deep.

I've wrote enough about your eyes,
and how they mesmerize me,
how I try to look into them and read
everything you hold inside you
and how I never could.

I've wrote enough about your lips,
and how they whisper,
beautiful things,
how I need them close to mine
so they could cure my every illness.

I've wrote enough about your skin,
which I believed was carved by Angels
a perfect imperfection, (sort of)
the way you glow against the sun,
rejuvenates every part of me.

Now let me write about your freckles,
little stars they are,
how they make the universe feel so
adorable, beautiful..
making me find my universe in you.

Now let me write about your scars,
which have become every part of you.
But, they rhyme with me now,
they're a part of me now,
that's why I love them too.

Now let me write about your veins,
running down your neck
visible through your fading skin,
I could kiss you, and feel your heart beating
but I'll be the one who'll feel alive.

Let me write all about you,
Your chubby toes, your sleepy voice,
Your breathing, your gaze,
Everything I can touch, everything I can feel.
Let me try..
every detail, every tiny bit
Let me write..
All about you
yet still find
that endless poem,
incomplete.

The concealer’s still fresh, I can sense.
Flawlessly, the warm tint covered me.
My lips and cheeks are rosy
Like when you first said you loved me.
All these shadows upon my eyes, smoking and bleak
I keep them closed, as I never want them open.
In darkness there is sorrow
In sorrow I found light.
My eyes- shut from many years ago
I want them open now.
Slowly, slowly, slowly
Mirror reflected such ineffable beauty.
I’m made-up.
Not because of you,
Not because of how I was to you.
I’m made up.
Darling, because I’ve made up my mind.

Oh!.
I forgot.
I only exists.
When you need me.

Isn’t physically quick or agile.

Disappears in libraries.

Has been known to dissolve into the physical pages of books.

Is good at tucking herself into the stacks and retreating to reading nooks.

Blends in at coffee shops where her voice can be drowned out by the grinding and the steaming.

Can become indistinguishable in the dark of theatres, in the quiet shuffle of art galleries, the finger-snapping of poetry readings, the hum and jostle of the Tube.

Is indistinct. Adept at hiding in plain sight.

I can fake a smile
Quite well

I can laugh when
I really want to cry

I can scream
So quietly you'll never hear

I can cry
Invisible tears

I can live
While dying inside

And I can hide
While standing right there

As you can see
I have quite a long resume,
Oh God,
Of why I,
Of all your children,

*Should be the next to come home