a thousand lovers
before us

have walked this path
of passion

that melts on our skin
like ice

wilting in the sun
like a  dried up flower

the words that pass
between our lips

are not unique

but still they shatter silences
rolling like a thundercloud

across the sky of
our indifference

to the fact that we
are not special

no, we are so much more
than that

reborn and learning
how to live

in the arms of
each other

we're content to be
a cliche

if the centre of it
roars red

like fire

if the heart of it
beats out to the rhyme

of love

I exist
without
your kiss

(barely)

head held
under water

heart beating
slowly

pumping
the minimum
of blood

that my brain
needs

to be able
to understand
your goodbye

and to tell
my lungs
to stop

(breathing)

your feelings
are from thrift
shops and flea
markets

second hand and
well worn

frayed around
the edges

a hole in the sleeve

a hand-me-down
heart

how can I believe
anything you
say

as truth

when the same
words were
once kept

on a letter
close to the
chest of a

girl before

time slows down
or speeds up

relative to how
fast you move

against
something
else

hurling into
the vast loneliness
of space

at the speed
of light

your heart
trapped in
aluminum

ages far
slower than
mine

gravity
bending
time

twisting
the narrative
of our love

so that one
of us grows
old

apart from the
other,

helplessly watching

a promised lifetime
blowing up

above the cheers
and screams

of a crowd

our love lies
battered on the ground
like the centre of a rose
left naked without
its petals

bitter whispers of
"I loved you more
that you loved
me"

I will call you
cruel, your
callous heart
wounding me
with goodbyes

I will call
you cruel

cruel

cruel

I am both

hurting
and healing

two truths
nesting in
the palm
of my hand

like the moon
takes light
from the sun

or the sea
gives sand
to the shore

neither is one
without the
other

I have been searching for a reason;

was it my hair,
my face,
my waist,

as he grabbed me by the wrist
and pulled me towards
his pulsing body

was it my hips,
my ****,
my lips,

as he stood before me
one hand, ******* my shoulder
a ***** mattress beneath me
covered in the seeds of my
shame, my hate, my blame

forever changed, one half of
my head is a Hell no one else
will ever know, ever see,
ever understand

**** is an ugly word
yet, too simple to express
what is taken, stolen,
lost, in that one act

four letters that sit together,
like every other word
in the ******* dictionary

yet they are strangled with
barbed wire, each vowel
choking, each consonant
begging to be heard,
to be seen, to be
believed

I have to believe
that I can grow
from a rotten
root

or else drown
in a pool
of my
tears

and fears