You were a magpie

you stole the root of me
bare bones and arteries
and now I am

a shell
stood shaking
in my skin

forever

You sing songs from the dead sea,
echoes of long forgotten love
that burst like starlight,
scattered across a black sky,

I press your heart against my lips,
taste it’s bitter root of anger,
a spark of light that hit a shard
of glass, in the reckless summer heat

we are faithless, you and me,
yet still we believe in each other

Buildings have a language,
bricks laid with weathered hands
that once bake bread in their
Grandmother's kitchen, new face
wrinkled with kindness and
years,

the stones have stories
of wars, battles fought with
swords, blood blooming from
chests like flowers that have
been tendered with careful
green fingers,

walls rattle with memories.
whispers of forgotten love
that raged like wildfire for
a year, then died like summer
when autumn came and swept
away it's leaves in a red carpet
of indifference,

we cannot simply tear them down,
these bricks, these stones, these walls,
turn them into dust and blow them
into the sky, for then to catch on clouds
before scattering like ashes into the ether

we must love them, keep them,
treasure each crack, each nook
and cranny,

as if our lives, too, are
the very foundations
of castles

or the simplest
wishing well

Even the stars
shake when I
speak your name,
a woman bursting
her heart,
red and raw,
arteries like arms
wrapping around
a wound, a bloom
of tulips
in my chest,
a cavity of
dirt, a wisp of
seaweed stretching
a lonely hand
into the ocean,
begging a wave
to answer

Your breath is weak
on the back of my neck
as we pretend to sleep,

my heart is heavy,
sinking, as I know
I shall be leaving
soon,

as the moonlight
fades and the tiny
specks of starlight
disappear,

we are two broken
hearts that could
not heal each other

we were always tethering
on the edge of love,
lust melting like honey
on warm bread,

don't you feel it
darling? the dull ache
of loneliness that hums
between us like
electricity,

there was a spark, once
as I looked into your eyes
and felt like I was home,

but now we are ghosts,
hollow, without substance,
empty spaces where there
should be

everything
we've ever said,
ever done,
ever tasted,

the memory of
your lips,
your mouth,
the shape
of ecstasy

and now, my love
the come down

harsh, a stripped fluorescent
light, skeletons shaking,
bonds and bones rattling,
the fossils of a
prehistoric romance

buried in the earth,
forgotten, left to be
discovered one day,

but not today.

I can't drink or smoke
when you leave

I leave the windows open
tempting a breeze
to bring in the scent
of flowers and summer
rain

They remind me
of you

the way that rain
falls onto a flower
and drips, drips
down into the
soil

the yellows
and oranges of
the petals
burn

our faces reflect
in the dirt and I know
that we'll never be
clean again

We used to sit up and talk
all through the night,
sleeping only when
our mouths ran
dry

at first your voice
was the only bit
of you that I
could stand

but soon,
your eyes
began to shine
bright blue
and wide

and I fell
into their
waves

now I stare
into their sea
and wait
hopeless
for you to
speak again

like a deep
sea diver
running out of
oxygen

I drown
and choke

and wait

for the water
to claim me

The first days of Spring are out,

I run through the woods
weaving in and out
of the trees

kicking up
green leaves
and the heads
of yellow flowers

I like to think that you're
still chasing me

one night you didn't
come home and I knew,
somehow, that you
were gone for good

we used to play
here, before
the winter came,

we'd sit for hours
reading each other

writing love letters
with sticks
and stones

my skirt catches
on a branch
and throws me
back, back
to that night
and I remember
that now it's
just me and
the trees
for company

He pressed a twenty pound note
soaked in whiskey
into my hand

This is for the taxi home

my legs are dead
and bruised

hair ripped out
at the roots

black leather boots
scuffed at the kick

make it look like
an accident

a broken glass
on the floor

a red wine kiss
at midnight

frozen lips that
whisper lustful
moans

and I remember
the first drink
in the park

the innocent brush
of a hand against
a thigh

as I take the money
and run

He asked me how I've changed.

I guess it starts with the little things,
a braid instead of hippy locks,
an inch taken off the heel,
white wine instead of shots

I hold my keys between my fingers
and spread them out like claws,
I keep my back to the traffic
and turn my head to the floor

I practise screaming in my living room,
until my throat turns to sandpaper,
I drag my nails across my skin
until my skin soaks red

I check the doors and windows
once, twice, three times
and then repeat
repeat again

I take sleeping pills when it's daylight
and drink strong coffee when it's dark,
I tell my friends that I'm busy that night
and hope they stop asking me out

I never risk the last train
or stop for a driver with his window down,
I don't approach the homeless
or acknowledge my name

I try not to think about the big things,
the shard of ice that sits where my heart used to be,
a shame that threatens to **** you,
a rage you can barely contain

I tell him that I haven't changed at all.

It was a plague passed
through kisses, I never
thought it would ****
me, but I woke up
one day, dead limbed
and deaf to everything
except the sound
of waves crashing against
the peaks of my heart,
and I couldn't move
without you

Fireworks sent me to you,
red and green, burning
stars and flower
crackers

I try to hold onto that.

I spy
a split back
dress, blanched
skin, from where
I sit

That used to be me,
with your hair
in delicate knots and your
knees creeping out from
under your skirt

When did I stop
shaving my legs?

I let myself
go, drift away in the
same way that cats will
wonder away from
their home to
die

As memories claw
grasping and teasing
with black and white
photographs of a girl,
a butterfly that
reverted back
to a larva

They'd been living together for two years now but he still had difficultly placing a name on their relationship. It was always complicated, born of a reckless impulse to do something dangerous and a more simple indulgence of curiosity. He couldn't help it, from the first glimpse across that cold lab, to that wink as he left the room, Sherlock fascinated the Hell out of him. He found himself focusing on the tiniest of things, the tone of his voice, the way the vowels and consonants clashed together, the way that the sullen silences and manic experiments blended into the fabric of the life that they lead.

People called them friends or flatmates, occasionally people would speculate if they were really lovers. The truth was that they were all as bewildered to the true extent of their relationship as he was.

Certainly, there was an elemant of truth in all of the assumptions. Technically, they were all of those things. In the quiet, 3AM born musings however, these words always felt inadequete, meaningless, compared to the feeling he got when he stared down at Sherlock, breathing softly and blissfully ignorant to the internal struggle of emotions, labels and expectations that he felt every night, woken up by some nagging doubt that clawed away at the fabric of his mind as he shared a bed with the man whose existance in his life was beyond explanation.

My camera clicks a little
less these days.
It doesn't forget that we are
no longer young.
The years we spent
kissing under trees, stretching
our limbs out to the sun,
skin crisping, blistering,
then peeling. Are gone.
We thought we were
solid and stern, that
we could easily hold off
the gusts of time. Now
we sleep most of the day.
Occasionaly, we take a walk
(in the shade) the trees have
aged too, but they still
stand proud. We are
more like a branch
it's cast off in the wind.
My finger pauses
over the shutter, I
want to mark this
moment, to see if
the picture is less
kind once it's
taken.

We ran from our homes
like a flood

Our limbs burning
as the pavement
fades under our
feet

From city
to city
we move

Like a shadow
creeping out
to reach

The sea

I don't want to hear it.
How he found you, you're eyes locked
over plastic glasses
of cheap wine

the way your feet
dangled slightly
swinging from
the stool, avoiding
the floor

how he offered you his
coat, streatched tight
across his slightly
too wide shoulders,
the way the sleeves
blocked you from
the cold in a grip
that was almost
firm, but not...

you knew the price
of an illegal cab fare
just not the cost
of not riding one

orange lights and exhaust fumes,
the engines humming like a bird
that's dying, still fighting
to breathe, like black
beasts of metal and
sulphur

it could have been over
in seconds, a wave of your
hand away from never
starting

instead you wrapped
the coat tighter, like a cage
with soft walls, pockets
stuffed with shot glasses

and took him home

My father hated him
at sight

Stolen glances from behind
his crystal whiskey glass

He prefered the last
one

Tall and dark and
strong

A real man

The kind of guy that looks
like he carries photos of
his kids in his wallet

With spare twenties and
condoms

My mother keeps
quiet

I know she liked him
too

But she noticed the bruises
and fat lips

She knows the smell
of pressed powder
over black eyes

I really was her daughter
back then

A broken bone bond
between  her child

She hates that I got
out

That I refused to carry
on their name

She looks at the new guy
whose arms hang over my shoulders

My father smokes cigars
and sighs

Trying to work out if his hands
could make fists

If his knuckles could
smash against my skull

He can't stand to see me
with a man who lets me answer back

A man who gives me his coat
when it's cold

He likes to see a mirror
reflecting back his
brutality

Telling him that his daughter
is safe (in a way) from
the wolves that walk the pages
of fairy tales

It's that time of year again,

The air is warm,
breathing delicate
wisps of breeze
across my skin

I was cold
inside my heart,
shrank and barely
beating

My head is my own
theatre, frames flashed
and frozen, projecting
every still

I try to put the ghosts
to rest, bury them like
bones in a garden

But they wake up,
like vampires,
when the sun sets

Words catch in
my throat, lungs
take in their fill
of air, but there's
not enough oxygen

To feed my brain.

I do not want my heart to burn with longing,
for this love to be a fire that roars when our fingers touch,
our lungs shrinking, our coughs and splutters
mixing in the air

I just want to feel warm.

In Spring we dreamed of
flowers, yellows and oranges
and fresh grass, green
with envy for the
Summer

We held hands and
kissed along beaches
whispering secrets
against sunsets
on sand that burnt
the spaces between
our toes

It's November now
and we don't look
at each other,
our backs pressed
together, the outline
of our misery
blazing, racing the
flames of the
bonfire

I was dreading the winter,
the stale smell of Christmas fairies
that have lived in the attic
all year

I knew that if you left
then
I wouldn't follow you
out into the snow

I cling my arms
around your shoulders
like tinsel, draped
and static, falling
flecks of colour

I couldn't think
of a present so
instead I wrapped
myself, tight,
against the frost
that threatened
our future

swallowed down
all the things you did
that made my skin
scream, forgave
myself for drifting
away from you
and decided
to stay

by your side

as you poured whiskey
into the expensive glasses
we were saving

(not the cheap ones
we smashed against
walls)

touched drinks

and sat

with my head fitting
(a little too tightly)
into the crook
of your arm

As I sing I draw rings
around your name
turning my voice into thunder
that shatters, cracks,
breaks the window
glass

I am seeing inside you,
blood, heart, bones

Sensing storms that
haven't reached the sky
yet

My body aches for
disaster, a fire, a hurricane
a drizzle of acid rain

I am feeling the weight
of rage, of goodbyes
that shake to the depths
of our souls

I will carry you around
like a bird with broken wings

I won't let you
fly
away
from
me

My face is the front gate
of a rotting town

people sweeping
through streets
like a Plague
that kills with
disproportionates

my eyes the ticket-men
who check scraps of
yellowed paper for
numbers, ripping
of corners for their
pocket

my ears hum
with the sound of
Thalidomide bees,
collecting nectar
from dying flowers

I can smell scattered
chemicals and poverty,
children without shoes
and old ladies who
knit with rheumatic
fingers

I keep my mouth shut
to stop the spread of this
war

I let my head fall forward
sometimes, or shake

but

I will not open my lips
for anyone

It's five-thirty
when I walk
barefoot and
hesitant

eyes wide open
against the
dark

towards the place
I last kissed
you

I can hear
your lungs
lift and fall

lift and fall

like I fell
for you

I am wearing
one of your
shirts

it's sleeves hang
loose

I can almost
wrap them
around me
twice

my stomach
clenches and thinks
of breakfast

cups of coffee
and newspapers
to argue over

our kitchen is
bright and clean
red gingham curtains
like the ones
little girls

dream of

scrubbed wooden
table and chairs

each with a leg
that needs to
rest upon
a book

I'll pass you the
milk and sugar

smile into
my cereal
bowl

tell you where
you left you
car keys

stand in the
doorway waving
you off to work

I reach down
through the black-
ness

to where I think
your blanket
is

searching for the
soft corner of
warmth

my fingers touch
nothing but
air

my feet are
freezing

I hear the clock
strike six

and wake
up

It's an echo of war

a battle no-one can
remember fighting

or winning

but we know that
we are the
losers

somehow

even if we can't
see it

I wanted you the way that
January leaves need the
snow to water out
their dry, cracked
veins

but now you're in my
blood, the way that
an infection crawls
into an open wound,
plants it's seeds and
grows there

every lungful of
air is mixed with
sand, sticking like
dust to the back of
my throat

sandbagging
our voices, forcing them
to be content with
the odd restless
word that slips
through our lips
whilst we're sleeping

silence is our
live in and she
runs a tight ship

tight enough
to keeps us touching
no matter how hard
our limbs try to fight
their way to
freedom

Who knows the darkness?  she says.

I do, a quiet voice, in my head.

the sinking feeling in my stomach when I crawl into an empty bed

the frozen fossils of lovers tossed loosely
on the floor

I claw

from the bottom of my black, holed well
the air escaping like a slither of silver

the bars to my cell

I am a monster without teeth, who feasts
on the loneliness of my thighs

and I am walking, step by step, with the beast

of depression and anxiety, it’s pen pal friend

who I have known for years, through letters

but it now has a body to tend

I crawl

like I’ve forgotten how to walk,
across cobblestones that feel like boulders
beneath my feet

I have forgotten to eat

What do you have to be sad about? She asks.

As if sadness is a currency,
exchanged between  haves and the
havenots

whilst I am in knots.

I get her point, I guess

but I did not choose this never ending death

You shatter
the silence
with your
smile

I run my fingers
down your
smooth bank

no imperfections
just imprints
of a lover’s
gentle touch

I hold my
head to the
side

when I
think of
you

and try to
curve my lips
into the
memory of
us

My demons stir,
a light that bleeds
through a crack,
and they are alive
once more, to torment
my every waking thought,

the threads of time
align against me,
stitching together to form
one shuddering roar
from within,

my honey trap of memories
are theirs to flick through,
to select at random which
one they want to play,

I am Godless in a faith filled world,
a host for a sinning parasite,
that wraps me up in curses
and black magic, killing me
with shame and self disgust
that's palpable to the touch,

I have danced with the Devil tonight

He turned wine into water
and took the sea
into his mouth -
salt filled and raging
wild with waves

but I am not a mermaid
and I do not sing a
siren song, to lure
him in

I smoked a cigarette
and waited for him
to turn that mouthful
back into wine

sharing an alcoholic
haze of memories
untangling

we are destined to be
one more sip away
from oblivion

I'm smoking my fourteenth cigarette of the night
and listening to a storm shatter against
my window

my mind is folding backwards to when
we first met, the most important raindrop
in history, caught in my eyelash

that you gently kissed away.

In April, I look forward to the showers.
to puddles gathering at my feet, that I
can splash about my boots.

Daffodils bringing yellow smiles,
spreading like honey across fresh
growing grass.

I remember your kiss
and the raindrop

as I listen to the violent, wild winds
of Tezcatlipoca, washing away
that single, fateful

drop

A hook
an eye for an eye
hanging helpless
at the end of
your line

I've raged war with the heavens
rattled the bars of my cage
until they came loose
fearing the judgement of a God
I no longer believe in
talking to angels no one else
can see
I am through treading on eggshells
timid and tender to the slightest touch
I will eat poisonous berries with dirt
covered hands, unafraid of the
consequences. I am a black hole
waiting to implode, and you
are no longer the centre of
my universe

Your breath is like honey,
a warm trickle on the back
of my neck, your kisses
sweet and deep as the
ocean

I have a craving for
sugar now, an insatiable
sweet tooth, mouth open
wide and ready to
devour

one more touch and
I am transformed into
something more than
just a woman

dressed in rags
and begging for one
more mysterious
meeting of lips

(One more gypsy kiss)

like a thief in the night
you have taken me
like the sea

like the night
the darkness
the stars

we are so much
older, now

yet we are
young enough
to know the
sweetness of
a supernova

as a chil of the universe
I should know better
than to let my heart be swallowed
by the black hole that is you

My past is not yours
to play with,

my insecurities not yours
to doubt,

my weaknesses not yours
to exploit,

my temptations not yours
to tantalise,

I have shattered the bars of
us,

switched the light on to your
indecency,

grown a rage in my soul that threatens
to overspil,

I have broken up the beams of light
that lingered between our hearts,

seeing only in the dark,
blinded yet clear,

the world which once turned around you,
now spins to the beat of my

(and
only
my)

heart

My battle scars
are words

once whispered into
an idle ear

a poor piece of
history

left scattered at
the entrance of

love

My world tilts towards you, always
In the cracks between our two realities
In the corner of the mirror, that reflects back my True Self
You are not whole, right now, still moulding into the shape of the boy I love
Yet, this mailable, weak, shifting form
In which you’ve shown yourself to me tonight,
is enough to make me weep

I entered the room
that you shared with a girl
whose hair was as gold
as honey, hiding a mind
as wild as a storm,
              
the night rattled against the door,
stars beating against the frame,
their fire desperate to burn
a hole through the wood,

possessed, deluded, she walked
the halls barefoot, talking to
the moon with it's face
white as arsenic and
just as deadly

and just when the stars
began to falter, she wavered
and turned, half smiling
and said,

'I fooled you all,

I fooled you,

yet again'

You are the key
he said,

but my heart
is not

the lock

tick

tock

stop

The air swirls
through the still
night and I want
to be with you

I should know better
than to turn to
you

but feelings
can't replace
the facts

the way your arms
hold me

the way my head
just fits into
the crook of
your neck

It's a heart wound
that's fatal, that
bleeds over everything,
colouring and staining
the sheets, my skin,
my eyes

I should be out
hunting, painting
the town red

and I am

but I don't think
I'm doing it right

there are thousands
of boys out there

boys that don't break
in the morning

boys that don't pick
your heart apart

boys that don't kick
you

or tie scarfs around
your neck

but the bruises
always heal

and the thought
of waking up
next to someone
who loves me
just isn't enough

to stop me
loving
you for
hating me

I am here,
sort of, I guess
physically I
exist

I have bones
and pink
cheeks

but it doesn't feel
like living

just existing

breathing with
these muscles
that sit so close
to the one that's
dying

and I thought
you would call me
tonight

but the phone
didn't ring

even when
I wasn't looking
at it

I didn't think it was
possible to hurt like
this

I didn't believe
that men could
stamp on
your heart

feel it spread
beneath their feet

and not
care

It's an echo of war

a battle no-one can
remember fighting

or winning

but we know that
we are the
losers

somehow

even if we can't
see it

It's an echo of war

a battle no-one can
remember fighting

or winning

but we know that
we are the
losers

somehow

even if we can't
see it

It's five-thirty
when I walk
barefoot and
hesitant

eyes wide open
against the
dark

towards the place
I last kissed
you

I can hear
your lungs
lift and fall

lift and fall

like I fell
for you

I am wearing
one of your
shirts

it's sleeves hang
loose

I can almost
wrap them
around me
twice

my stomach
clenches and thinks
of breakfast

cups of coffee
and newspapers
to argue over

our kitchen is
bright and clean
red gingham curtains
like the ones
little girls

dream of

scrubbed wooden
table and chairs

each with a leg
that needs to
rest upon
a book

I'll pass you the
milk and sugar

smile into
my cereal
bowl

tell you where
you left you
car keys

stand in the
doorway waving
you off to work

I reach down
through the black-
ness

to where I think
your blanket
is

searching for the
soft corner of
warmth

my fingers touch
nothing but
air

my feet are
freezing

I hear the clock
strike six

and wake
up

There are easier ways to die

I told him
over steaming
cups of tea
that we cradled
and tended to like
children

he would have me
wandering, crawling
from room to room,
like a beast consumed
with the hunger for
dead meat

I've heard him talking
to himself at night,
sitting, smoking,
staring out at stars

I know I've left
scars on his heart

his eyes blue
from the effort
of trying to
to break

but I wake up
each morning,
checking my hair
before I touch
his face

I let him sleep
and take the pillow
case off, shred it
with my hands,
burn it with the
hate that rises
like heat inside
me when I know
that it will be
the same
tomorrow

we used to
fit into each
other effortlessly

now my bones
stick out and
catch the small
of his back like
a spike

six more months
they say and all I
see is my skin
sagging, my stomach
sinking, my heart
beating less and
less

it hurts to know
he hates the things
I think, the thoughts
I can't make him see

There are easier ways to die

than to be eaten
bit by bit
to the bone

Ink runs from the end of my fingers
as easily as blood trickles out
of a wound

spitting words that melt
in the air

teeth blackened by
the ashes of prose

I would swallow them
down if I could

but each one
bangs on the back
of my closed lips

begging to be
free

to fly off
my tongue
into nothing-
ness

Twig by twig
we built our home
like birds

in the winter
we froze
together in a
raindrop

our faces
suspended forever
inside a tear

branches sway
in the breeze and
we fight

to remain

here

in the air

where we can
refrigerate
our hearts

pretending not to
feel the wind
ripping our skin
apart

and the rot
that grows
in the cracks

This is where
our idle walking
ends

the crunch of
winter leaves
beneath our boots

stops

we reach a kissing
gate that tells us
we're in

memory

when our thoughts
met with kindness

soft whispers
in the soil

hearts planted
so deeply that
even the storms
do not shake them

one of our hands
reaching for the
other, to touch,
to bruise

scratching, crawling
out from the Earth
like a dead
thing

utterly mad
but strangely
beautiful