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Like a bird of prey he circles me,

cigarette stained fingers grasping at light, loose cotton

his breath, stained with whiskey
and red wine

dripping with blood as he devours me, soul first, a ripe heart for afters

the whistle of the wind through a cracked chimney ***

where they used to send children, where children died

(I envy them)

I collapse into his words and I know I must succumb to my (un) death

to the weight of twenty stones of fat logged arteries

to a man two joints of red meat away from a heart attack

who is forcing feeding me a glass of water laced with sedatives

I pray to a God who is dead to me
that I want to resurrect

I pray for Cyanine and Arsenic,
kept in a jar

under the bed where he
buries me
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
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
Your daffodil kisses
blow off the snowy
remnants of winter
and a spring starts to blossom
in my heart
Day Twenty Three
Damaged girl, they say,
so damaged girl, I act,

don’t touch me,
for my fingers are fire,
and I will not hesitate to burn you to the ground,

don’t love me,
for my heart is a serpent that will
land a poisonous bite in your neck,
and I will not flinch, but look on,

damaged girl,
damaged goods,
unworthy of touch,
unworthy of love,

but do not mistake my tone for self pity,

for I am happy
burning my way through men,
as they have burnt their way through me

revenge is a flame on the flesh of one
who reminds you of your enemy

and a snake bite, in the neck of your abuser
your mind
is merely dancing skeletons
in the dark
take comfort
in the quickstep
and know that these
shackles will break
and you will dance upon
the heavy dew grass
again
we danced on the eggshells
of our broken hearts

each step was exquisite agony,
and carried the endless hope
that we may find our way to love again

in the white dust crumbs
she walked with dandelion dust
on her shoes

knowing the cost of everything
and the price of

nothing

she was told once,
that they were weeds

that they should be killed off
to allow the grass to grow

but she knew that nothing would grow from death’s kiss

(yes, she knew that, at least...)
Essentially, I want
to love what has
never been loved
before

to hold what has
never been hurt
against my heart

to fight death
with my bare
hands

and conquer it
Darker –
a shadow that starts
at midnight, growing into
the early hours
like a creeper, crawling
walls and windows,
longing to touch
flesh

Emptier –
the words that pass
between us like
vacuums, hollow and
echoing, they are the
fossils of
love

Simpler -
we have stopped fighting
the current, bending our
bones to make
sculptures, we exist in
the quiet places
between body and
soul
"I will conquer the darkness"
you said,

not realising that the darkness was

your flesh

your eyes

your heart,

I took that darkness into my mouth
a thousand times,

chewed it between my teeth
and spat it out

like the stones of a cherry,

I conquered the darkness
not you
I accept my own weakness,
what choice do I have,
but to admit my weariness
and dimmed hope

the sky is dark and damp
drinking the light out of
each star, consuming the
flames that flicker
across the universe

I am breathless,
each breath has been
taken. Inspected,
deemed defieict

I have nothing but
the clothes on my back,
a loose white cotton dress
frayed and torn, dragged
back each time I tried
to run away

I will walk up one day,
in a pain perhaps so fierce
it shall sit in again molecule
of air, each pore of my skin

I sigh, I am alive
but less so I no
I know death is no
longer in reach

for years, sitting at
opposite ends of rooms,
of words, knowing that I
only had to reach out
my head to hold his

It's all gone now,
that company,
the hours of counting
down my breathes
one by one

I am alive, undoubtedly,
and I have no weakness
of health except what
burns in my heart,
which boils in my blood,

my lust
Rising from the dead lilies
of your forgiveness

blood on my knees and mud in my hair

the eery calm of plucked daffodils

yellow stains on my fingers
that I can’t remember where they came from

except the shower of petals at my feet
giving away my crime

I do not forgive you

I want to destroy your peony soul
with acid rain

I am bitter like the month of February

biting frost
chilling wind
freezing rain

I am all extremes
and you can eat the dirt of your sorry
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
When we sat in the garden
Under a canopy of wisteria
Surrounded by colour, and by life
We did not realise that as we drank our coffee
We were sipping time from a chipped cup

Each mouthful another week less
To spend with you
Talking and debating about everything
Under the sun, falling out and making up
ALWAYS making up

Each bittersweet gulp another month
Nearer the vultures
The pain of watching them eat away at you
Whilst you had to be fed by tubes
Whist I measured my days, my weeks, in hospital visits

The stench of pity all around me
As useless to me as faith
And worse, the toxic fake false positivity
Telling me everything would be okay
When you were ******* dying
I want to tear their words into pieces
Shred them to nothing because that’s all it means
NOTHING

Eventually, our cup of time ran out
Please know that I never wanted to leave you that day
Please know that I would fight lions off with my bare hands
To say one last goodbye

You are gone, and I am left
Traumatised by seeing the true horrors of cancer
But holding on to the fact that the last thing we said
To each other was “I LOVE YOU”
And I am loving you always
But always longing for

One last hug
I’d give up a thousand tomorrows
For one more hug
Nuzzled into your neck
The smell of your hair
The feel of your shirt
The beat of your heart
The steady rhythm of your breath
Soothing my fear

How can someone so alive
Suddenly disappear?
we are in debt to
the stars

each one carved
with our

initials

sighing our name
out to the

sky

we are children of
the moon

ever chasing its
craters

across an endless
sphere of

silver
I borrow words like money

always swearing that I will pay them back

but my heart is in so much debt

as you have taken every penny of poetry
that I had

that if I am to keep writing at all

(and I must keep writing)

I must go on

scrounging my way through life
We plunge into the heart of December,

its cold tendrils wrap around our hearts,
squeezing out the life the summer breathed

into us

we are nothing but a dark, dead *****,
a puppet of winter,

waiting for a New Year’s Eve firework

to ignite a spark of life

back into

us
You pick apart
the days we've shared
as is if they are cotton threads on a shirt,
analysing each moment
to see where we went wrong,

examining what you believe
to be the facts, when love
can't be understood by
facts.

What about the feelings
we shared? or the kisses?
do these things matter less
than a ten minute taxi ride
or a possible wrong turn
in the woods?

Why are you so cold?
so utterly distant from your heart?
as if it doesn't live in your own chest at all,
but in another body entirely,

maybe that is why I could never reach it
maybe that is why our relationship
will be eliminated to nothing,
after your deductions
this is my deliverance,
away from the torture, away from the pain
that you inflicted on my body and mind

not a day passes when I don’t think
of the way you grabbed me from normality,
from safety, from peace

a day when I don’t remember
the agony of you forcing yourself
into my body, my heart, my soul

but this is goodbye, farewell to the days
of the constant nightmares,
the fear, the shame

I am my own salvation,
digging deep inside to find
the courage to heal

to let the soothing balm of love
rub over my skin again

you are nothing and I am going to
rise from the ashes to be something

magnificent
I wake up to an
itch - ripples on
the surface of
my skin come
in waves,
beating against
the shell
of me

in the night
you are
no kinder

slipping between
the sheets like
a limb, a veil

I scratch, my
bitten nails

my body,
the coarse
strip, my finger
the match

striking

the

flame
I wake up to an
itch - ripples on
the surface of
my skin come
in waves,
beating against
the shell
of me

in the night
you are
no kinder

slipping between
the sheets like
a limb, a veil

I scratch, my
bitten nails

my body,
the coarse
strip, my finger
the match

striking

the

flame
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
There are demons within me
- nameless -
carrying a thousand words
of memory that I can
barely stand to contain

their weight makes me
buckle like an animal
whose load is far too
heavy for its back
to stand

and I am also, animal
prowling these haunted streets
of my mind, ever waiting
to pounce

in the night, as I am
falling asleep. Twisted images
and contorted words

they are all what remains, now
all, and everything
sweet whispers of nothingness

in the midnight blue chasm of my heart

I reach out for you -

fingers contorted with rage and wonder

gasping for that final touch

that you have denied me
I watch the hours pass
so slowly,
time playing tricks on my mind,
each one as uneventful as the last
as nothing happens,
not ever

in this waking sleep,
this corseted grip on time
as darkness descends again
the ever watchful night,

trying to take me into its home
to place me amongst the stars

and God have I wished for that,
to be forever starlight

to be part of the darkness that engulfs me,
instead of overwhelmed by its force

but I dare not take that razor
that smooth, silver blade
itself glistening with light

so for my weakness, I am ****** to an eternal hell
as I watch the hours pass
so slowly, that they barely move at all
I am not sure who I am anymore,

they say depression
is like being at the bottom
of a black hole, unable to see the sky,

but I see the sky,

the sun burns my skin,
and the stars taunt me
with their promises of sleep
that are never meant for me;

I am sickly sad
and I’m not getting any better,

my heart is full and cracked
from the strain of carrying the scars
of a thousand wounds ,

I cannot stand with a heart
so heavy

and would you really blame me
if I made it stop?
its teeth have sunk into my neck
like vampire fangs

bloodthirsty- draining the life out of me

unwashed hair, cold coffee,
wild, impenetrable dreams

I am at its mercy, once again

I cannot claim the he is unfamiliar,
every few weeks, he visits
through my carelessly left open window

and feasts,

he is the familiar beast
of darkness,

I do not know how to shake him off,

the pills don’t work
the ******* skills don’t work
(like the doctor’s say the should)

I’m just left with my familiar foe,
drinking my blood until I’m

.....empty
Every breath is agony
when you’re conflicted about
whether you want to take it

dark shadows,
creeping into the corners of my heart

ghosts in my head,
talking to me at night,
their endless plotting for

more

paralysis when I try to wake from
this nightmare, that is happening without sleep

I am screaming from the bottom of the ocean
but it is too late, for no one saw me

drowning
Crimson light -

spin me sideways and
around the bends
that are the journey
of life

this path that I must walk
compass buried deep in my veins

lead me from love that is conditional
and into the centre of a heart that melts
in the morning

above all, shower me in moon dust
so that I may feel I’ve walked the craters
that are the surface of my soul

praise me
for I am a woman of wonderment
ever walking, never stopping

breath in
breath out

destination irrelevant to the holes in my shoes
that are the battle scars it took for me

to reach it
we walk
under a canopy
of wasps drunk
on rotten apples

a second away from
a sting in the neck
that would put an end
to our feet tracing the

path to our destiny
along the road of disregard

I walked, hand in hand with destiny

teasing it to tell my stories end

greeted only with silence

and solemn vows

to keep placing one foot

in front of the other

until we reached our journey’s end

where my past flashed before my eyes

before making peace with every shard

of shame
you make your own magic
or you make your own misery

there is no such thing as destiny
Fear Him, they said,
fear for your mortal soul,

but fire is the Devil’s only weapon,
and I do not fear it,

for I have built my home out of flames,
warmed my feet against the bricks
in the deep months of winter,

struck matches against my skin
to see if I could withstand the agony

of being burnt,

and now I know, I can.

so I wrap my fingers round his horns,
and invite him to tea,

for I do not fear that,
which cannot hurt me
I have always had an uneasy longing to be
Godless in a world ful of Devils,

as I walk blindly down an unfamiliar road, I force my keys between my fingers,

I hear the sound of glasses breaking,
the aftershock of a fist making
contact with a jaw

someone is following me and,
despite myself, I pray

later, when I wake from the haze
of a Rohypnal dream

catch sight of my siren red bra
on a hostile floor

inhabiting a body that aches,
beating to the rhythm of a clam -
like heart

head spinning, a brain that has been
suddenly stunted,

I wonder how I could have turned
to God?

To have turned my back
on the Devils, to be caught
unawares

is this my punishment for a fickle faith?

the boy who cried wolf,
eventually burning beneath the sun

why do my legs shake with rage
at the thought of ever

praying?
It was different this time,
we were drifting together
perfume covers the smoke
tantalising fumes that rise
and then fall
my head, left dizzy
and breathless
as I gasp in the
poisonous air
another night spent
curled around the
wrong reality
dimensions that shift around me
as I move about my day
ink on paper, stripped wood beneath my feet
the foundations of a place that is not tainted
with the harsh cruelties of here
honeysuckle covers the smoke
the sweet root of home
when my heart longs to stay
with pure belonging
and contentment
but it never lasts
and once again i am
forced to wake up
and live in a world
that was never meant
for my multifaceted
heart
As we fight to
claw the earth off
the bones we're
digging, I see you in
a new light (as if I've
only just noticed you've
been standing at my
side) and my
heart sinks, knowing
that your face, in
that light, will be
the way I
remember you
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
The distance between us roars,
oceans of salty waves washing over
skin and seas that stretch further
the the naked eye can see
I have walked through fire
to reach you

and the blisters on my feet
are love bites

from a distant love
Dix
Dix
I remember counting pennies
with the wrinkled hands of my grandfather,

gnawed fingernails and cracks full of antiseptic,

hands that had once held a gun steady now shake with effort

bronze circles of currency stacked in piles of ten,

ten fingers to wrap around a hot mug of coffee

black, four sugars, as milk has started to curdle in his age wrecked stomach

we count, we stack, we wait,
we laugh as the pounds pile up,

ten,

ten fingers to fret the instrument his protruding ribs have become

ten fingers to hold as the IV goes down

ten fingers to mould dough and break bread, like his wife did before she

stopped

ten fingers for doctors to tap on
blue, collapsed veins

ten seconds to share his strung out last breath

ten fingers, ten toes, keep moving
“Don’t leave things like this.”

You said,

but you don’t get to choose anymore

your black rose soul that kept me
transfixed for so long

your deep ocean blue enchanting eyes
that told stories as old as the seas
with just a concentrated stare through me

well, those spells have broken
and I will leave you how I like

I could do it in ashes and glass, if I wanted
but I just want to quietly exit, stage left
and leave the petty performance you call love
You are gnawing me down
to the bone

bones

grinding, marrows mixing

blood

red blood that trickles down
my chin

the taste of iron and oxygen

you were my first, you know

(no one will believe that)

blind drunk and filthy finger
nails

scratching out the letters of
my name

my heart withered and weak

ribs breaking under the weight

(the dead weight)

of a man
I'll be brave this time,
as I remember

you. Memories folded
into my mind like

love letters stashed
under a bed.

I am a coward, though
and I am unashamed to

cry. Unabashedly run
my own fingers through

my hair. As if recreating
a moment can bring it back

to life. Second hand kisses
that linger, like sugar on my

lips. I did not ask for
forever. No, nor plan for

it. I just wanted one last fix
of you, as your *****

chases my dragons away
don’t tell me
to hold
my heart
in my hand

if you won’t
hold your heart
in yours

when you have
wounded me
with whispers
that meant
nothing to
you

I have stood
before you
fearlessly

my love alive
breathing the
very air we
share

still standing
when you
have fallen

short of
of being
everything
I dreamt you
to be
Too soon, she became a human,
climbing perilously

(unwinged)

to kiss the sky,
to see waves roll over oceans

(she would tame a tiger with
her mortal fingers)

inside, she knew that it would take
magic, not love

to save her
she undressed herself
for him

as one would undress
a wound

hopeful that the skin beneath
had healed
We were two kids
kicking bricks
as our legs
hit the wall

I never thought we'd
grow up

we were Peter Pan
and Tinkerbell

dressed in greens
of different shades

dressing up
meant nothing
back then

becoming someone else
was easy

now we no longer fight
over who gets to
pick first

from the wooden chest
of characters in the attic
of my Mum's house

(with the big yellow
kitchen that smiled
like the face of a
'well done' sticker)

we only kiss when
the kids are
watching

a peck on the cheek
that hurts as much
as the time I
broke my arm
with you

I like to think
that it's you that's
grown out of
loving me

(the way that you
grew out of your
shoes between
school terms)

but that's
too kind
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