You were** the smile at my phone
the reason my voice became a higher tone
you were the sugar in my tea


you were the reason i write poetry
to express my love, freely

Now i wince at every beep
and *my tea is no longer sweet.

Your name is nothing but air in my lungs
Your lips, nothing but past heat beats I kept at arms length
Your words, nothing but a mumbled mess.

But I'll always listen to your favorite bands.
Put your art up in my room.
Think of you before I go to sleep at night.

I will always be pathetically,
Hopelessly,
desperately,
in love with you.

Like the rain loves my ***** windows,
Ill be there.
But only if you need me.
And only if you want me.
And sometimes when you don't need me
or want me.

You are sun through trees,
star lit nights,
every cold breeze,
cigarette,
love song.
You are bitter, sour and sweet.
You are my home,
and my lost.

You are the last person I want to fall in love with
Because you're never going to love me.
But I cant imagine what its like not to feel this way.

You told me I was **** when you touched me
on my chest and stomach,
but I am sure that I wasn’t **** at all.

I have memories of you
cradling me like a lion with his cubs,
except there was nothing paternal
to your touch or words,
and I felt no safety when I was
in your bed.
Not even when you told me not to worry,
not even when I came to you
to escape my nightmares.

You didn’t seem to understand
that you simply led me into new,
scarier ones.

I want to be perpetually drunk and/or preoccupied so that I wouldn't have to think about missing someone, or finding out that I have no-one to miss, at all, so that I don't have to be conscious of people and their reactions towards my everything  (because actually, I am rather afraid to lose them). I can feel every one drifting away to a place where I have no slight intention to go onshore.  I wished I had no memory of memory at all. It's rather tiring.



I have so much anger in me that cannot be washed away by late-night whiskey, that I whip myself senseless even when no offence was taken by anyone, that a constant anxiety of my mediocrity which floods over this miniature seawall of mine, inundating my mind. I am a body of sadness that no-one bothers to comprehend, anymore. Everything is already reflected in my uncertain calligraphy, those lines of varying thickness, a corporate perfection.


Sometimes we don't really have to burn bridges.

Neither do we know how to mend them.

"It's too hard", they said.
"Why bother?", he said."
"Don't care", concluded she.

Not a word spoken.
Not a word to speak.
A single glance that lingers, at what once was.
A image of oneself,
A love we thought would last.
In its place an unmet desire,
To be complete,
To be full again.

The darkness that surrounds my heart.
A welcoming evil grin.
The shadow that clouds the light,
not of my own, But the fear that stands before me,
that rules me.

An empty shell of a former self.
For you have stolen what was left.
The last of my soul I gave to you.

As time passes all hope fades.
A quiet sound this emptiness brings.
A single  prayer seeps through,
Only but a whisper.
That as time and hope begins to dull,
I may finally be able to let go

I am running.

It is an hour past midnight into the new year, and there are people streaming out of buildings and cars speeding by on the street, but I am running. I am in a dress and flats that are threatening to fly off my soles, hair tangling in the wind breeze but all this doesn't compare to the smile breaking onto my face, eventually turning into a laugh. A real laugh, one with arms high and heart abandoned to the moment. To now. To being glad that I have survived another year and lived to tell the tale, because despite the pain and the empty, these moments make the suffering worth it.

The moments where everything in the world seems to have righted itself and I realise that this planet is beautiful. That my own fragile life and state of mind is beautiful. That the shadows and the darkness are nothing in comparison to the light. That despite what life can throw at me now and then, nothing will ever compare to this. It is the unlocking of the heart and the accompanying audible 'click' that makes me live. Actually live, and not just survive day by day. And to be grateful, for having this moment. For having the now, in my life, and not slip back into the past.

I am aware that the past never really leaves a person, and if you're not careful, it can become a person. And maybe sometimes, I have been in that dark and scary place. But it is a new year, with hopes and dreams and wishes and chances to make things right. To make things better. To learn new things and make new mistakes and fall down and get up and do it all over again, because we're human. And that's beautiful in it's own right; persistence and resilience. The hope that tomorrow will be better, starting from now. And this is my now.

I never run. But right now I am, and it's not away from something but into something. A new hope. A new life. A new beginning. The past is not behind me, but with me. I have made that mistake once, and never again. It will accompany me because it helped form my heart, and sometimes we need to look back to appreciate where we are today. And I do. I am grateful for my life and the falls and the triumphs. The heartbreak and the anguish. The joy, the laughter, Every feeling I have and can possibly feel. Everything.

I am running.

It is brilliant.

(A.H.Z)