writing and scribbling and scrawling down my all thoughts,
each and every
dark and sinister alley twisting in the curves and
    crevices
of my mind.
dusty, hidden corners filled with filth -
hidden by the shadows of my
    weighted self.

The words claw themselves
through miles of skin
and bone.
It is a path carved
of blood and tissue,
a journey made
in the silences
between sentences.

Gagging, coughing
up my thoughts
until I am a mess
of misspoken words
and unfiltered thoughts.
It is a sickness,
and the journey’s end
is a death sentence.

She’s not taken seriously for her innocent smile, her round eyes, her rosy cheeks
She’s a child at heart; or at least that’s what her face says.

She’s not taken seriously for the curve of her hips, the swell of her *******, the length of her skirt
She’s an adult, after all; or at least that’s what her body shows.

Too young to understand the problems life has to offer;
Too mature to go under the radar of prying eyes.

Fragile;
****;
Sweet;
Fuckable;
A trophy to have;
A means to an end.

“You’re a woman now,” they tell you, but that means nothing more than getting treated like a child yet being expected to handle it like an adult.

Her face is angelic: a cherub, something untouchable and pure.
Her body is the devil himself
- the ultimate temptation, she’s told -
and that’s what she starts truly seeing it for,
it’s evil,
because why else would she get treated this way,
if not for her body?
she begins punishing it, because she’s the evil,
right?
at least that’s what she’s told.

and so the angel sees the devil for what it is,
and begins torturing it slowly
until nothing is left but skin and bone
and people saying
“such a shame, she used to have such a sweet face”
“what a waste, she had a beautiful body”

such a shame,
what a waste
of a body
for an angel to become the devil.

I’ve been to the darkest depths of the world,
And felt the cold hand of death caressing my chest.
I have seen the true mark of hatred,
And inflicted the pain of fire.

But never, never have I been deeply touched
Like the warmth of the burning sun
Or with the sparkle of the night sky’s stars.

Have you ever put yourself through hell just to keep someone else alive?
Have you ever been stabbed in the chest and had the knife twisted,
Yet felt nothing at all?

I’ve walked with sisyphus,
And flown with icarus,
But never have I step foot in the hallowed halls of Olympus.

Have you ever been deeply and truly loved?
Because, I have.
Loved with the glowing red warmth of a heartbeat.
Loved like achilles at the break of war.

Have you ever felt deep and true love for another?
Because never, never have I
Felt my heart beat in rhythm with another’s,
Or looked upon a face and felt like I’d set sail on a hundred ships
Just to fight for her.

I’ve never felt my chest rise and fall in time with their breath,
Never have I held a hand and felt my chest alight in sparks and warmth.
Have you ever felt this way?
The pain and the raw passion of heartache?

Because one day, one day,
I hope I can say that I have ever
Felt that way.

And I remember thinking—
I wish someone would look at me that way.
As if they had battled it for a lifetime,
Through seasons and snow and sun -
Across cities and oceans and mountains
In innocent youth and wearied age,
As if they had finally surrendered and had no choice but to look.

In the way it takes all a person’s will and strength to look away
And they have been worn down, beaten, bruised
To the point of weakness, of giving up.
And now, all they are left with is their truest self, exposed down to the bone
& no strength to battle the inevitable
Draw of their eyes to mine.

I want someone to look at me as if I am their lifeline,
And their death-bringer.

'you’re the greatest love of my life', he said.
age eighteen,
wind in your hair,
going 80 on the motorway,
and you were in free fall
whilst he was laying down roots.

flash forward, and he was crying.
branches swaying in the breeze.
'you’re the greatest heartbreak of my life', he said.
and you felt a pang, a twinge, on your heartstrings
whilst he lay his heart on his sleeve,
your eyes dry,
whilst his were weeping.

flash back, to your hand in his,
swinging in the stagnant air of summer,
a light smile on your face,
a burning intensity in his eyes.
your laugh tinkled in the air,
whilst he gripped your hand tighter.
but it was hot, and your hand was sweaty,
and your grip loosened,
and your hand slipped out of his,
and his smile fell.

'you’re the greatest loss of my life', he said
over the phone, voice low and raw.
and you blinked and felt nothing,
whilst he claimed to feel everything.
didn’t he see, how couldn’t he see,
that you were nothing new?
i guess he never knew you at all.

to the present, to the now,
your eyes catch his across a crowded room,
a glimpse of the past,
a snapshot of before
before he drops his eyes,
and he raises his hand,
intertwined with another’s.
you float over the room like a ghost
and your ears pick up his words,
-'she’s the greatest love of my life', he says,
and he raises their hands,
he kisses the bunched rope of fingers and palms,
and she’s smiling,
she’s beaming,
and his eyes burn intensely,
and he roots his hand in hers,
and his heart shines out of his chest,

and finally you understand his words.
'you are the love of my life.'
it was wishful thinking, an affirmation thrown into the air,
but the wind blew and it struck the wrong person,
an actor who wasn’t up to play the role.

because he was wrong.
never the love of my life,
and the words echo now,
that I wasn’t the love of his,
either.
a breeze blew and hair flew across my eyes,
and his laugh echoed across the space between us,
and i smiled
and my chest ached
and my heart wept
but he smiled back.

my heart
coils and quivers
grotesquely,
reaching out and
stretching the taut skin
of my limp body,
until it bursts
in a frenzied explosion
of stardust
and flames:
a fire, set ablaze
from within.