Sun shines bright
Like fire -
Light fights darkness

I have always been uneasy
with the phrase
“Until it happens to you”

for me, it diminishes
the sacred bond of empathy

a shared understanding
even without a shared experience

it implies that people
cannot hold your hand
in the darkest moments
of your soul
and feel your pain completely
even if they haven’t lived it

it’s true,
until it happens to you,
you won’t know that darkness,
that trauma,
that pain

you won’t see
the face of your abuser
every time you
close your eyes at night

you won’t remember
every time you
smell that smell,
hear that song,
that name,
visit that place,


but sometimes
that doesn’t matter,
if the right person
makes you feel safe enough
to be yourself again

There’s no future in the past
so I carve out a path for myself
like an ancient scholar
carving lessons into stone
a path that leads me out
of the darkness
and into brilliant sunlight
I take my first steps like a child
always pushing
always dreaming
but despite it all
you are forever looking back

I need you tonight
like every night since we met,
I close my eyes and travel
across oceans and dimensions,
in search of what?
not love.
it was never love,
just an aching need
for the connection
of two broken souls,
the meeting of a shared sadness,
I move like a ghost
between the buildings of the city,
calling out your name
into the midnight sky,
no one answers.
if we never meet again
I’ll survive,
but a part of my heart
will die forever.

He said;

“It’s not like you have
a serious mental illness.”

and after I told him to “*******!”

I wondered if he was right

after all,

I’ve only tried to **** myself

(twice)

maybe three time’s the charm

I’ve only been bed bound
by a crippling darkness

that eats light with a ravenous hunger

I have only felt my heart
explode in my chest

with the utter certainty
that I was dying

I have only conversed
with spirits and demons

(the fun ones are the ones
that love you back!)

maybe he’s right

maybe I’m sane

or maybe...

I love that first
tantalising taste of coffee
in the morning,
deep and dark as the ocean,
and sweet as honey,

I love that first cigarette,
it’s warming amber glow
and glittering embers,

I love the silence at 4am,
the still quiet with only
the stars and the moon
for company,

I have to remember that I still love,
when my heart is so often full of hate

People think that poetry
has to be a certain way

look a certain way

sound a certain way

but at night,
when it’s just me
and the words
and a white, dazzling page

a raw outpouring
of rage, or grief
a siren song of sadness

I know better
than to believe in that

and to think with my heart

and not traditions
or conformities  

and to trust in myself
and the words,
and that white, dazzling page