I can't look you in the eye
because I'm too scared you'll
see something you don't like
or that you'll see who I
really am
underneath
it all

Instead of a heart,
You had a piggy bank.
And instead of  happiness,
You wanted to be filled with
A kind of freedom that doesn’t exist.
Freedom from who you are,
but that can never change.
I wrote lines and lines of poems,
about how my heart sang
when you held me.
While you just scraped together
lines and lines for me
on your kitchen counter,
And told me that this was you
giving me the world.
When I asked for love,
you handed me
Glasses of gin,
instead of holding me.
You filled me with fear,
When it should have been safety.
I asked for a husband,
And you handed me a pipe.
Was this the great love I dreamed of?
Glass pipes instead of slippers,
And my soul mate,
My perfect fit who pummels me into shape.

I faded into a ******* maid,
"A hollow selfish person,
who only one person could bear to love."
My dream lover,
a 6 foot 3 tradie with the temper of a 2-year-old.
27, and he still throws his toys.
It’s a shame that I’m the only thing he likes to play with.
The more he played, the lighter I became.
Soon it went from pushing, to throwing.
After tiny bruises came blood.
The pain his horrid words made,
Echoing in my head,
Like ricocheting shrapnel.
The tightness of his grip,
Leaving his handprints all over me.
The same hands that brought me pleasure,
Brought far more pain.
Lips that I once eagerly watched,
Waiting, wanting to kiss,
Now were the gate keepers,
to the most hurtful words he possessed.
The skin that once excited me,
Now pressed against me,
Holding me to the floor
as he staked his ******* claim on my body.

your eyes meet with hers,
through the loud swarming mass of
drunken people talking louder and louder by the second,
so you throw that smile,
you throw it and you pray that
she throws one back,
so you don't have to
spend another night,
lying in your bed,
alone.

and then,
the corners of her eyes gentle crinkle,
the apples of her cheeks bloom,
her soft lips slightly part,
as if already inviting you to
taste inside.
so you go,
move closer,
trying to remain steady on your feet,
trying to find something witty to say through the drunken fog that fills your head,
not that it matters,
she'll laugh regardless,
and give you that look,
that look,
that look that says
I want you to lay me on your bed,
take a hold of me,
and search inside me for something that cannot be found.

so you take her hand,
your palm slightly damp,
from holding on to your beer like a lifeboat,
as if it was keeping you afloat.
she leads you through the crowd,
you're squeezed in every direction until you are birthed on to the street,
finally surrounded by air that isn't heavy with
ingratiation,
desperation.

she's done this before,
you can tell,
it makes you kind of nervous,
but also makes you feel safe,
at least one of you has control of this
'situation'.

you can replace him with hobbies, other people, with things, things that you need and things that you don't.

but you don't need him.

I'm sorry your soul calls to mine like the wind through the trees, gently whistling my name as you pass by

I could sit here and eat one thousand strawberries but I'd never find one that is as sweet as your lips

I hate that I know the location of the dumb moles on your back,

and that you told me about your grandmother's dementia,

or your mother's philosophy that no act is selfless,

I hate that you told me your most embarrassing secret,

or that you make me read cookbooks aloud on a Sunday morning, when I'm wearing nothing but your t-shirt from the night before, and every time I say a different ingredient you moan, or giggle, or gasp, or grab me and tell me how hot the way I say coriander is.

I hate that you wore ugly pajama pants around me,

I hate that you showed up, drunk, on my door step at 4am after ignoring me all night, and all you wanted to do was cuddle.

and that the next morning I called you a ****, and a ****, to your face, for making me so confused about whatever is going on with us.

I hate that you said "maybe we should take a step back, because I don't wanna be a ****"

(aka because you don't want a relationship.)

well, neither do I,

I never wanted this.

I was 4 months out of a 3 year relationship, enjoying my new found freedom.

I just woke up after a typical one night stand,
to all of my favorite things,
in one room,

your room.

I never wanted the guy I had been sleeping with at the time to turn off my "whiney pop punk", just to find the exact same cd in your collection days later.

I never wanted to find out that we have the same favourite bands, or that we both like films too much.

I never wanted you to offer to sneak home from work at 10am to drive me home, just so that I could have a few more hours sleep in your bed.

I never wanted to be attracted to a guy who is the total opposite from my usual "type",
or who reminds me of my dad.

I never wanted your best friend to tell me that he wants us to date, even though you're not ready for a relationship.

because I'm not either,

but now,

are we stuck attempting to casually **** other people to avoid what might be happening?

after all, in the span of one evening you ****** one best friend and I ****** the other.

I messaged you at 5am on Saturday,
after I'd had a ******* *******,
and you told me to come pick you up from some girl's house so that we could go back home to yours.

you told me that you didn't wanna hear my *** stories anymore.

you'd message me on a Monday afternoon, fishing to see if I'd ****** someone else on the weekend.

you told me one Saturday night that you wanted to spend the entire Sunday together, in your bed, watching Star Wars and ******* all day.

and that during the walk home, we could keep warm by making out.

you even messaged me to tell me that you kissed a girl, but that you then decided to go home and message me instead.

my friends have begun to hate you for all the head ******* you do to me,

and even after I changed your name back from "******" in my phone,
you still **** me around,

I don't even think you like The Smiths,
so I don't know why I care about you in the slightest,

I guess it must be because I think it's cute that when you talk about eating meat, you say the name of a vegetable instead, just to try and please me.

or maybe because whenever we are about to ****,
you say "tell me what you want"

and after I respond, I ask you
"what do you want?"
and all you moan to me is

"I want you".

or maybe just because we are kinda sexually compatible.

after all, you said the way I grab your **** is "magical".

our discussion last week, drunk, in the club bathroom.
when you yelled loudly about
how great I am in bed,
and how you hate your ****** job,
and that you've never been single as an adult,
and you just want to be free for once in your life.

and I said I was the same,
all I want is a life free of consequence,
doing whatever I want to do.
no
strings

we agreed that we both wanted the same thing,
and then you watched me leave with another guy.



I have to stop myself from thinking about the things that you say or do,
because I'm confused enough as it is.

like the fact that you messaged me to apologise for not having sober *** with me saturday morning,

or that you finally went down on me for the first time friday night,
(it only took you 3 months)
(some stupid part of me thinks it's because you like me,
but my common sense tells me otherwise),

I honestly don't know what we are doing,

and you probably don't either.

"poor little rich girl,
with her pretty face,
her well-off parents,
her mental illness,
and all the *****, drugs and hair dye she wants.

you'll
be
fine"

the lump in my throat grew,
pulsating,
larger,
and larger,
i feared i would choke to death
on the internalisation
of my own emotions.

and it's not fair.

this burning desire to keep myself from getting hurt,
is just getting in the way.

because people aren't shirts that are too big and need to be altered. people aren't gloves that fit so perfectly you'll never tire of them.

how can i compete with the seven wonders,
when i still wonder about myself?
although i may not have seven seas,
i have more than seven scars
for every war
that i have waged and won.



no, i’m not an ancient artifact, or culturally significant,
but baby, it took me years to build these walls up around me.
and i don’t have beautiful snow-capped mountains,
or perfectly calm blue bays.
you know i'm like wild seas, throwing handfuls of men to their deaths.
to them, these unknown waters
strong undercurrents
unpredictable tides,
were too difficult,
too terrifying, to navigate.


baby, you're standing on the edge,
and just
one more step
could make you feel like,
you're ******* the king of the world.

I’m sorry baby but I’m the stars and you're the moon, you will always love me and I will always love you

I tried to take you
by offering
my legs
my *******
my insides
but I only
received you
when I offered you
my mind

you entered my veins without ever being asked to

*******,

we're going to spend so long ******* around that by the time you actually decide that you want something from me,

I will have found someone else.

I need to find someone else.

who won't

say one thing,

and do the other.

who is exactly my type,

and is nothing like you.

I feel like you often fall in love.
and I'm just the same curves, mapped out in a slightly different way.
you know my body like a town you spent your summers in when you were young,
old buildings may have been demolished,
replaced by new buildings,
but it's still the same old place,
that you've been so many times before.

how am I different from the others?
besides the color of my hair,
or the markings on my skin.
because, to you, I don't feel different.
I don't feel special,
and I don't feel like your one and only,

just one of the many.

they say every living creature dies alone,
but why would you want to live that way too?

Your bones creak as he holds you
You hope he doesn't hear

He hears them softly whisper
And he exhales deeply "don't fear"

His bones are also weathered
Some of his tendons, torn

But do not be ashamed
Of your bones so old and worn

As he, just like I, have been there
so many times before.

he says he
can't concentrate
when I'm around

because
I'm a burden
on his time

2:03am Monday morning,

and I'm sitting here, writing ******* poetry about you,

because you'll give me tiny glimpses of your soul,

and happily fill every my orifice.

but you won't give me anything more than that.

And I can't look away, you're the cutest car crash I've ever seen

I tried to make my mouth smaller and  less harsh. But I'll forever be abrupt and never know my place. And you'll forever be faultless

I want so desperately
to open up your head
run my fingers though
your thoughts
to find the most
beautiful
memory
you possess

I wonder sometimes what
you think of me

if i'm crazy or beautiful
is it one or the other?

he gently placed
his hand on my thigh.

but all I wanted him to do was
put his hand
around my throat
and hiss
"tell me how you like it?"

day one,
we made eyes at each other,
through the rising smoke
and drunken howls.






“cocky *******”
i thought to myself,
as you spoke loudly to someone about me.




an empty compliment fell out of your mouth,
and tried to wriggle it’s way into my pants.
i coyly smiled,
not yet sure of my intentions,



but when i peeked up at you,
our eyes met.

and for a mere 6 seconds,
in a lifetime of millions,
i was stuck.
drawn to every tiny hazel fleck
that was scattered through the pale blue.
they sang to me and i




melted




we’d known each other
for less than an hour,
but the way your eyes gazed into mine,
it was as if you knew
exactly
what was inside me.
we melted together
so easily.





i knew i had you when
i asked you to take me home,
and **** me.



you’ll say that
i didn’t have you,
until i was standing
in your living room,
near naked
and
bound,



but the truth is, baby,
i’ve had you for so much longer,
and
you know it.

oh you’re drawn to the horizon,
but i’m just drawn to you.

I am nothing more than space dust falling in the beams of his sunlight

I tried to be softer, more lovely, quieter.  It was then realised, wholesome boys like you aren't meant to love broken girls like me.

How many
times have you felt
his eyes
flutter past
your knees
over your anxiously waiting
chest to
meet your eyes
only to be lost in the

we paint our pale mouths brighter in the hopes of stealing a kiss.
we draw our boring eyes wider and bigger in the hopes you'll somehow get lost, and be unable to find your way out.

I shouldn't try to twist my jagged edges down into smooth bumps. There's no use trying to pretend I've never tried to jump.

i want to crack open your soul
and lay in your every curve,
bathe in what fills you,
taste every flavour within,
until i know
what you're made of

you used to make me pink but now you just make me blue

We sat there in silence,
not knowing
whether or not
it was the end of this
chapter
or simply
the end.

Sometimes I wonder if people can look into my eyes and see the great amount of deep and everlasting sorrow inside.

the words tripped, and stumbled,  from my lips,
as i tried to tell you that
i didn't love you
but all that my lips and tongue could form
were the words
"i need time"
when really,
all i needed
was to have time
away
from you.

and all I want is
to look into your
eyes and see
you shining back
at me,
wanting me,
needing me,
not looking
away
like you do

let me play with your hair and adore you, allow my touch on your skin to linger on

and doesn't he make you feel special,
the way he wraps his arms around your waist,

too bad that feeling is wasted
and anything but special

never dull yourself so that someone will blindly fall for you. you're iridescent and anything less just isn't you.

I want to reach inside you

I want to

touch the

darkest parts of your soul

i guess to you, I'm just some girl you try on for size when you feel like having a taste of something different

i'm restless and unwonted, i don't think that's what you want.
no one really does.

sometimes
you make me feel
half empty
other times
you make me feel
half full

i wish that when our lips touch, that i could read your mind, swim through your thoughts and rest in some place safe and warm.

you make me

cut-open-my-chest-and-rip-out-my-still-beating-heart

crazy

let's

        fall

  for

       each
         other

I've grown tired of getting nothing in return, but you keep me up all night

And for every part of me that wanted you, another piece of me hated the thought of even touching your skin