I can't stop myself now.
And I didn't think of you this time, except to note 'he was better.'

she is the kind of girl
you meet when you are so young
that the love overwhelms you
but now you will know loss
for the rest of your life.

alfie said 'heaven is real'
now I can't wait to go home.

30th November 18:47
at the hands of someone else, my collar bone is bruised but not broken. he didn't understand my body like you, let alone my soul. he probably thinks I don't have one and maybe I will too if I say it enough.

I don't think heartbreak gets easier after your first love, I think you just learn to love less.

I hope you smell me,  get a hint of my shampoo as you brush the hair off of her shoulder
or her eyes are the same colour as mine, a shade of Autumn you would say. Smell me in the mixture of potions as you walk past the perfume shop, you can't quite put your finger on one. Smell me in the baby oil, an act of such pure intentions taking us back to our earliest days.
I hope you see me, in clubs
the back of a head from some stranger whose hair is the same colour and I am haunting your memory do u feel it
or do you see me in the faded face in a passing car window that makes your heart jump and your eyes double take. see me as a ghost on the streets we use to walk
close your eyes and hear me laughing as we leave, drunk
and decide where to eat
footsteps clip clop and occasional stumbling
I hope you hear me, in my favourite song as it comes on the radio
or in the strings of the violins tear at your heart strings when you play the orchestra solo at Christmas. or hear me in the cheesy songs and imagine me, the way I'd put my hands in the air and pop my hip. shaking my hair and see the music, pure life in my eyes.
most of all I wish you could feel me, now.
put a hand around my waist and move my hair off my neck. lay a kiss on my cheek as I sleep and you say I am 'blowing bubbles'
and maybe you will taste me
in the back of her mouth as you knelt and she said yes and it will taste like poison because it's been too many years to take back and you know, now, it should've been me all along.

how wonderful,
to be in love
with someone
who loves you back

•


1. I am craving intimacy
I have forgotten, you see,
the feeling of skin
on skin.
to hold your hand
or lay a kiss on your cheek,
I am craving intimacy.
more than I have ever
craved cigarettes,
your breath on my neck
or the rising of your chest
as you sleep.
I am craving intimacy,
come give it to me.

2. I crave darkness
in your arms
though alone, I am terrified.
I crave moments
in which we can hide,
no eyes.
explore only with our sense of touch.
explore me blind,
I am yours.

3. there is no greater
accomplishment
than knowing your way
without sight.
that is what I want,
with your soul,
to know it so
I could recognise it
with my eyes closed.

I think, sometimes you have to say '**** this, I deserve better than you'

I've been saying that since I was 10 about my parents. Cos they ******* up, don't they? Your mum and your dad. ****, I deserve more than a mother who cared more about a pint than my school shoes. A mother who knows more vulgarities than appraisals.

****, I deserve more than the ******-twig-thin-blonde that I convinced myself was my best friend for 5 years. u little *****, I deserve more than a text every 6 months about how you 'wish we were still friends.' I deserved more than taking the back seat for a guy. I deserve more than your texts to 'keep me sweet' and your promises that are as empty as your personality.

****, I deserved more than the 'friends' that made me feel bad about being sad. As if the complete ******* up of my life didn't have quite enough guilt. I deserved more than their forced drinking, I deserved more than being their run around, ordered around. I deserved more.


and ******* hell, did I deserve more than the ****** ex that near ruined, and ended, my life. I deserve more than to wonder if you're still alive, because in all honesty I tell people you are dead and I've never been much of a liar.

I deserve me. I deserved time by myself to get to know myself. You should get rid of ****** people because I've never been happier

can I bottle the butterflies
for you to release around your room when you miss me

baby, can you imagine
falling asleep to the gentle sound of their wings, barely even audible

it's not dissimilar to how you fall asleep to the touch of my fingertips lightly on the curve of your back

oh,
and I love to trace over your stretch marks
though you say you hate them
they are just like my scars really,
a reminder that you're growing from the person you used to be.

and I love the way they almost glisten in the light,
god do they fascinate me

it doesn't matter what I give you for Christmas
because it will never meet the standard of what you have given me

for the first time in my life
I have come to the realisation
that I ******* deserve to, and I can, be happy

I guess I was a walking tally chart of the amount of times I hated myself and even God couldn't kiss that better.

Life is unfair, we know that. But time is a *****. She is the bombshell that stands at the bar seductively drinking martinis and cocktails with sugar rimmed glasses through her poison-coated lips. Time is the girl you should never take home to your mother. She is the one that will tease you, and string you along. Time will make you wait, then leave you with your heart in your throat and that dry lump where your manliness and pride and your Adam's apple used to lie, and you couldn't cry but it's over before you even realise.

my neighbours have had their pool up since summer last year
I wonder if they stole my lost strands from the shower and threw a voodoo doll into the pool
or captured my soul in a bottle as I lazily blew cigarette smoke by their window
                         a bottle
                                         a doll

that now sits, sunken, at the bottom
of their pool and, perhaps, that's why I've spent the entire time
feeling as if I am drowning.

I can see home
infront of my own eyes.

swirls of blue
that can cover every emotion
over our heads

there are deep, proud blues
that keep your head high
when you wear them
and mean that you actually smile when meeting that common enemy
that is your passing reflection

that common enemy which often haunts you
on the sides of buses
and hides in shop windows
in plain view.

there are misty blues that I see,
and with it
the smell of salt in the air
and the tenderness of your skin
the soreness of your exposed shoulders
when you put on a t-shirt
after breathing in the sun
all day.

then, there are greys,
the appeal of an oncoming storm
beckoning to you
like beautiful merpeople
singing songs to your soul,
grey
is the colour of their gravestone tides.

I can see home
infront of my eyes

no I don't see the greys
the blues
in the skies
no I'm not
confined
by London
anymore

I can see home
in front of my eyes
and home
is wherever I see
yours.

nakedness is not just the absence of clothes.
be naked with your soul.

I'm eighteen years old and I don't understand ***.

I don't understand how people undervalue the thing that is literally one of the most important actions in this life.

You shouldn't bare your body, if you aren't willing to bare your soul. You should be comfortable naked.

And by naked, I mean, you should be okay with telling them all the reasons you hate yourself and let them tell you it's okay. You should be naked with the fact that your family hurt you and you grew up feeling lonely.

Be naked because you grew up with so, so many saddening secrets and now you find it so, so difficult to be naked with your soul.

I am trying to be naked
and I struggle with openness.

There is no point taking your clothes off to only hold the weight of life on your chest.

It breaks my heart to hear stories of friends that haven't grasped this concept. They're too embarrassed to share their secrets and the first time they made 'love' they wore a t-shirt.

don't miss out on the best things in life, get naked.

run into the sea with me
so I can taste the salt on your skin
I want that tide
to meet as the waves of our lips
crash together

let me fall into you

I'll run my hands over your body
as if I'm looking for
one particular piece of sand,
but I won't be disappointed
if I can't find it

now, see
the sea is beautiful
but I'd rather drown
in the ever changing colours
of the windows of your soul

I am just a dandelion
pretending to be a
daffodil.

I say I love you when I tell you to drive safely
          stick to the speed limit
          make sure your belt is on.
I say I love you when I tell you to be careful on nights out
         watch how much you're drinking
          tell me when you're home safe.
I say I love you when I tell you that you had better study
          your future is just as important as ours.
I say I love you when you've fallen asleep early
           leaving you messages to read when you're awake
            hopefully a smile will start off your day.
I say I love you when I tell you that you just do not realise just how lucky I am to even know you.

I wish I had more time to show you I love you
because I'm still not very good at saying *I love you

I can not wait until I can stop missing you

reece*
i spent a few years being angry with you for stealing that first kiss and tainting a memory. i would never have wanted to describe that moment to my future children as it happened. fifteen and very drunk. you took the hope for a romantic first kiss, in a dimly lit room and flushed cheeks, and replaced it with being lustfully pushed into walls and cars and grazed knees.
you left me with the stink of your aftershave on the collar of my dress and two 'love' bites on the side of my neck.  

conor
when i was fifteen, you were the apple of my eye. i am still sorry that i thought you were wasting time.
wasting time. that's why the whole thing fell apart for me, i had those typical naive teenage dreams. if i hadn't had got so mad, i wouldn't have let him kiss me.
our first kiss was cute and maybe i'll tell a white lie and describe it to my kids as mine. door step, holding hands, porch was lit.

jamie
you found me at the time of my life that i thought was bad. but now i see, it was simply the calm before the storm and that the worst was yet to be.
i was not allowed to even bring up your name on a social networking site without a backlash of hate.
maybe we crave for the forbidden, it originated from the garden of Eden but i do wonder if that apple had tasted as sweet as your kiss.
i can't tell you how much i enjoyed those very few weeks with you, you helped me to realise i deserved so much better.
                            now I've found it
we kissed under a staircase

billy
oh, how i wish your name was not on my list.




tom
maybe I am biased because I am currently irretrievably in love with you, but our first kiss was my favourite.
the very touch of your skin almost made me cry because you are just so soft and I was not used to a boy being so nice.
and how strange it is, to be so happy in your presence.
how strange it was, to spend the entire day in London showing you off.
I could not, for the life of me, recall one single face
of strangers we walked past on that day.
I tried to do things properly, no kisses on the first date, but it's hard to say no when you lean in and grab my face.
and during the kisses after that one, you were worried would ask my why my hands would shake and my lips would tremble
and I was sorry, but sometimes things that have been smashed clatter around a little

and I know it's a long shot,  but I have to ask,
if our first kiss could be my very last.
train station goodbyes, the best and the worst.
but every kiss with you is as enchanting as the very first.

I guess
I won
the 'I
love you
more' arguments.

I hate sleeping without your body,
                       let alone your words.

for as long as I can remember
people have told me I'm poor at conveying my feelings,
they have told me I'm poor at expressing myself through words
             awful at confessions
                   ******* at honesty

my room is always messy
and I think my parents forgot to teach me the important things,
like keeping my room clean
and how to love people.

so now, I can't help but laugh at the hidden irony
that I scribble words in secret
about things that they never knew
                          will never know
happened

I doubt they ever imagined I would
write pages about
that play I did when I was eight
in the hand-me-down costume
and handmade hat
and how my best friends mother was in the audience, but not my own.

So, maybe you don't know how important it is
that I have to wait until you are asleep
to write you messages about how I feel about you

but you don't know
when you're in the shadows sleeping peacefully
that I'm trying to craft my emotions
into badly worded poetry
and I'm so, so sorry I'll never be able to show you

memories of the back of the car hang onto my clothes and I can smell them in my hair

you'll always look out for me because I'm 'your girl'

ha, yeah...

and honey bees are pretty
but they leave stingers in your skin

you are so many firsts for me
you are the beginning of chapters
whereas I am the flick of the page
when your sheet music runs out

so run your fingers over my body
like you do those piano keys
I want you to learn me
and teach me the melodies

for two nights in a row
I have fallen asleep
in your arms,
but when you leave
I find it impossible
to sleep.

it's 4am
and I'm wondering
if you ever leave me for good,
will I stay awake for every
painstaking heart beat?

He makes me want to write my sentences properly.

He makes me want to type my 'I's correctly.

Because of him, I shall capitalise the letter because to him, I am big and I am important.

I am worthy of being an 'I' in comparison to an 'i'.

Because of him, I want to write poetry that rhymes.

For he fits into my ink and it pulses through his veins, I can see through the surface of his skin and he belongs to me.

I want my sentences to accurately show
the rhythm and life that he inflicts on my own.

Because of him, I want my words to bounce with my heartbeat.

I am, I am, I am.

Because of him, I am no longer on borrowed time.

Because of him, I want write poems with anaphora.

Because he is the beginning of every thought, every line. Every second, every time.

His lines are repeated but he is fresh and new.

Because of him, I do not cower
                           it is only when I am singing in the shower
that I remember the times
I would idly sit in the greying water
and imagine them walking in on my body
which would be as cold and lifeless as it was in the inside for so long

But now, I see light
and no, it's not that light that you reach for because i - no I, am no longer longing for that desperate release of death.

Because of him, I no longer scratch my fingernails along the walls of the day
grasping onto it
and scared of the one to come.

Because of him, I eagerly await the sunrise counting down the amount of sleeps until I am sleeping in his security.

she was the kind of cold that was not affected by the temperature

he didn't know that making her cheeks blush warmed her soul

these are the moments I will immortalise

I will stuff them and give them glass eyes
I will pickle them in jars
I will frame and polish them frequently
and I will make them into a gold chain to be passed down through the generations.

I will share, imprint and bore these memories into my children

they will be both humoured and obsessed with the descriptions
of when their mother embarked on many adventures

when they are young, they will imagine me as a fearless pirate.
as they grow, they will idolise the carefree teenager I am, no - I was.

they will know the times I ventured with friends,
who will hopefully be familiar to my children.
the friends who many years from now will be referred to as 'uncle' and 'aunty'.

they will know about all the road trips
and my habitual late night naps in the back seat
they will know the beat of the drums to the songs we listened to and sung at the top of our lungs
and I will play them to live those moments again -
who says time travel doesn't exist

I hope they will be able to smell the memory, mix of excitement and sweat hanging in the air of the car,
the breath of our youth steamed on the window

my children will know that I fell in love far too young
and, as their mother, these are the world's cruelties I will attempt to educate and shield them from.

because one day, my freckled princess will grow into the queen of her own castle
she'll lift the chin of her own baby and say,

'my mumma said to me, you've got to kiss a few frogs before finding your prince. Don't ever give up hope, because magic exists but it isn't always pretty and he's looking for you like you're looking for him.'

Keep you head down, baby. Keep running, 'cause I promise you're almost there.

but I will not undermine my children
and tell them they are too young to love,
for if they were too young to fall in love, how could they fall unconditionally in love with me?

(as I already am with them, aged eighteen)

I will tell them the stories of how I met their father,
I am unsure as to whether or not I know these stories yet.

We will tell them about the first time our hands interlinked and we instantly felt at home with each-other.
  
           when you know, you know.

We will tell them about the sweetness and innocence that hung on our lips for that very first kiss,
and we will continue to kiss
as if it's that same first kiss
every time
every day

they can not deny true love if they witness it every day of their lives

it will be a living reminder
of the love our children were made from and bought into
and a living reminder
that I loved you,
that I love you
before I knew you...
because you're mine

kisses will be our family heirloom
memories are the best thing I can pass down to you

so my story is still being written
but it is not a forced template for my children's lives

I will hand them pencils, if they wish to draw over their pages
I will hand them fountain pens, if they wish to eloquently craft their words
I will hand them every colour crayon ever made, and let their creativity run  over the pages
as free as their young, bare knees will be on the playground

I wish one day, they will read these words,
and know the memories of my teenage years that have been
and memories of my twenties, thirties, forties and fifties that have yet to be made

I wish they will read these words and they will know that I loved them before they even existed

I will have immortalised these feelings through my words.

So immortalise me, my loves, through your memories.

do you ever wonder how you ended up in a car with this boy, that a year ago you didn't even know?

a year ago you didn't know his name,
you didn't whisper it in your sleep or feel it in your skin

you didn't see reflections of his eyes in the stars or stars in the freckles on his cheeks

a year ago, you didn't think you'd make it to the summer
a year ago, you could never even imagine the possibility of loving someone else

do you ever wonder why you've gone halfway across the country for him and now we're going down these country lanes at 80mph with the full beams on

80mph with the full beams on and I trust you endlessly
80mph and you have classical music on and instead of being scared of the speed, I'm comfortable and tired
80mph in your tshirt, jumper and my pyjama shorts
80mph and I can't see the road ahead of us
but speed up, baby

I'm fallin' for you at 80mph

one day,
every cell in my body will replace itself
and there will be nowhere he has left those criminal fingerprints
and my neck will not be branded,
burnt and owned by his burning lips.
my mouth will be but a stranger to his mouth as it is also renewed
yet still drips that venomous saliva.

the deliverance of such hope is surely a God send.

but every cell in my body wants to dance with you
I feel them vibrating in my inner being.
every cell wants to meet you
they all seek to be on the surface so they can bask in your warmth and light.
they want to live in your complete and pure goodness.

that's why you astound me
you make the very inside of me desire the surface

I want you to be there always,
relearn my body daily
as it grows into something familiar
to you
but also completely new.

I want to give you all of me.
every cell I am now -
they can die at your touch
oh, what a heavenly way to die -
every cell I am to be
is predestined as your possession.

they may not know which cell yet they are to be, but not unlike me,
all they are certain of is that they are yours.

bruise my body with bite marks
spit poison in my mouth
when our lips meet

I want all of you,
endlessly and always.

but you're trying to save me
and instead,
you'll show my eyes sunshine
that gleams from your body
and shines directly from your soul

I'm sorry if sometimes I turn away
but your light is blinding
and I am full of darkness,
dull and destructive

if this bath water could talk, would it expose the secret, man-made imperfections on my body that it currently soothes

                               but initially stings

if the trees could whisper, would they tell of the things they have silently witnessed over the years

some secrets they hold in their bark
some secrets that swallow deep to their very roots

maybe trees are giving away their secrets when their leaves shake in the wind

if this overhead train station clock could talk, would it laugh as it greets friends
would it cry as it separates lovers

did it slow down it's ticking as we embraced at the gates
did it stop completely and take a deep breath in as it witnessed our first, second and third kisses

could it rewind time so I could live those pounding heartbeats once more

if my bedroom walls could talk, would they weep for me, for
they met me when I was a little girl.

do they cry now for my lost future and the woman I am not


(four days.)

for days I have not moved from my bed, if my duvet could comfort me, would it would stroke my hair and tell me it's all in my head


      I wake up and I wish I were dead


oh if things could talk, would we be more eager to listen?

we can hear the lapping of the waves and the whispers in the wind, the creaking of the house and the comfort deep within

but I can speak, so why
won't you listen to me

There are some things I did not know.        

I did not know you could sit in a room with someone and miss them. Miss them because they just don't quite speak to you how they used to and you realise, this is it. This is where he starts to cut me out.
All of this provokes an old, intense and overwhelming need to study every detail of their face and commit to memory, all without being caught.
    
 I did not know you could love the shade of someone's skin in a particular colour t-shirt      
Try to keep it in. Repressing smiles? Well, life could be worse, couldn't it. But wow, I wish I could un-invent all the colours in the world just so he had to wear that colour constantly.

I did not know you could become obsessed with the way someone scrunches up their pinky finger when they play guitar, and scrunches up their nose when they hit the high notes    
And wow, isn't it just the cutest thing. That is an image of absolute peace. You in your favourite place, because all you need is the guitar. All I need is you to have the guitar. I swear, I could stay here forever.      Sing me into old age.

I did not know you could develop a passion for tea, because he likes it too and I'll drink it excessively because it reminds me of you. I confess, I would always give you a little extra sugar and you said my tea is the best.

I did not know I could wake up so blissfully in your bed sheets as that trademark cup of tea stands purposefully on the edge of the bed  
And Lord, did you create this boy with the purpose of melting my heart? I can't tell you how many awful nights sleep have been erased because the beautiful boy with the tea is there when my eyes open. Maybe I'll pretend to fall asleep often, to recreate the moment.

I did not know I have recorded your smell to memory until the smell with a different face passed me and all I could see was you. Because I noticed the smell first and I was looking around for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. I guess this aromatic ghost constantly haunts me.

I did not know I could constantly feel queasy before I see you, though it was nearly everyday. Crippling butterflies. The worse bit about those, is you have to pretend they're not there.

  I did not know I could be so protective over someone who is not even mine. I'd argue for you and fight for you and I'd be that one person you could always count as being on your side, but really...well, it won't make you love me, but it helps me to love you.  

I did not know I would grow to feed on your words and hang onto every single one that leaves your mouth. Sometimes you speak and I wish l could just take out a notebook because I never want to forget a thing. I'll sit and wait for your words or wait for you to sing.    Sing me into eternity.

  I did not know I could love the colour your cheeks go when you are hot. Your entire face is just warm. And that's another thing about you, you just radiate. Goodness, knowledge, wisdom, understanding. I can see it all bubbling under your skin. Your face is flushed and it's making mine burn too.  

I did not know I would ever know this much about you. I did not know we would ever be friends. You were a person I was merely aware of.  But you took that chance. You took a chance that saved a life. So I guess sometimes, breaking professionalism is worth it. Maybe. Was I worth it?

I did not know that I did not love before you, for before you I did not know what love was.

4/3/14

• i think maybe i get so much back pain because i'm piggy backing the devil

• i set dry leaves on fire because that's what you did to my life

• there's tremendous guilt that comes with picking flowers and for that reason, i can't love you

- you pick something beautiful and it's bound to die.

- maybe, if i pick you, i could press you between the pages of my favourite book.  

• your daffodil lives in my bell jar.

- your life between sheets of paper not my sheets of cotton

• i fell out of love with the life they gave me and began to drown in the life i was creating for myself

• knowledge is crucial but we shouldn't undervalue experience

• jump, jump, jump.

• in school we're supposed to be taught and prepared for life, we get depressed and want to die
and maybe it's because we can't apply the f*cking factorisation equation to our feelings

• "i love history,
you see people being brave and courageous and stepping out for what they believe.
But, God forbid, any of you actually develop a spirit and personality and think there is a life bigger and more important than this institution in which we trust with the lives of our future"

• now is the moment for change. We admire historical figures for their courage, but very few of us would actually do the same.

• you shouldn't expect much from people if they trample over something as beautiful as flowers,
why would they give a second thought to walking all over your life?

• they will never know i picked a tree

• The rain nourishes the soul, make the most of it then let it leave coaster marks on your skin

• my lips are flaming red but yours are the ones burnin my cheeks

• i am the rusty penny you always tell the shop to keep

• i'll stay in bed all day. not because i want to die, i just don't want to live.

• i don't listen to our favourite songs anymore because they're an open gateway for you to haunt me

• isn't it so strange to feel the pressure of lips against your own after so long

• i don't want to spend another second in your atmosphere

- i don't want to be pulled in by your gravity or drown in your oceans. Just let me breathe.

• how i wish wish wish we had kissed

• i can't believe they let me fall through the cracks of the system.

• i sliced my thumb open in a biology lesson.  Isn't that ironic? Eye-ronic.

• i still flinch when i spray perfume before leaving the house. Even though there's no need anymore.  

- that's one thing you don't realise that you will miss. Now i can cover my wrists endlessly with sweet smells and hey, they are pretty.

- maybe the perfume makes it all better. Now i'll spray it daily on my arms and you'll get perfume on your lips from kissing sweet spots

• i see ghosts in these school corridors. It's tormenting to have to stay here.

• if i was in a burning building, you would try to save my life. i live in my body and i'm setting it on fire, so where are you now?

- maybe you could try to help but don't breathe in my smoke or you will die too.

• i wrote 'smoke' and my phone autocorrected it to 'smile'. i am happy.

• there is great safety in a passed moment.  

- you can eagerly relive the moment he pulls you into him, hindsight diminishing the nervousness of the moment because you know now what happens.

- you can watch from a great temporal distance the groundbreaking decisions of others and find comfort in the passed moment as you know the outcome.

- maybe, in this way, we underestimate the moments as they happened

• you won't remember everyday of you life, how strange is it that you could forget today even happened.

I can feel the dry dirt tracks
between my toes and under
my bare feet.
Cars have been here,
when the mud was wet.
Footprints, paw prints,
they show me ghosts of lazy
sunday afternoons
and bicycle tracks,
perhaps, I could
track them back.

So, this dry field under my
feet is ugly
with it's yellowing grass that
stretches endlessly.
The day is dark
and the field is dead.

Strange, I feel it should be blooming.

Lost, the grass is lifeless,
dry and dull
it would be so simple and
satisfying to spark up a
wildfire.
Overwhelming, hot and all consuming.
Over before you feel a thing.

And ****, this field is flippin' hopeless.
I want to set it on fire
               see it burn
               see it die
Just to see something.

I want to stand in the glare of it's death and welcome the coming beauty.

We had temporary tea parties on this field
placed mats and rugs over the yellow grass
so for a while, at least, I forgot it was there.
Now the plastic cups have toppled and the tea *** has blown away.

Maybe, baby, I'm in love with the sadness.
Maybe, I'm in love with the field.
Maybe, I want to stand there and watch it burn
forever
because I don't think
standing with my face in the sunlight will ever match up to the burning dance of the flames licking my face.

Kiss me on the forehead, kiss me on the cheek.

Would you take off your shoes and dance barefoot with me in this field of death?
Hold my hand, let's run, until there's nothing left.
Set the poppies alight and let me swallow them whole,
away we go, away we go...

sometimes
i lose words in
your eyes
so i just have
to keep
swimming
hoping
they are
there for me to
find

my mouth

tastes
like cigarettes
but you've

stopped
smoking
do u
want to share
&taste; mine
sometime
Dear,
boy
who saved
my life
the boy
who tickles
my back
and lets me
sleep

r u holding out for that
one day maybe

do you know
i fall asleep
with my hands
touching
together

but I notice the difference
as yours Are tougher
bigger
rougher
but i've never had the pleasure

of falling asleep with
your hands
though ive slept
cocooned
in your scent

do you know
i've never been very good
at confessions

i confess
i could draw
freehand
the shape of your lips
from Memory

(i could show you
      where they curve
       and bend
       and they look like
       the perfect destinatIon
       for my life to end
  killing myself,
        to die upon a kiss
       
        to die upon 
        your kiss
        i'm killing myself
       by even thinking this)

i confess
i could shade
the exact ways
your hair falls
dowN
by your face

(i could explain
    the smelL of your hair
    after a long day at work
    it feels thicker
    as it resists against
my hands
      
     you dO that too
     do you know)

i confess
i could describe
the wonders
in
your eyes
of
your eyes
so accurately
they would be seen
by the blind

(i'd rather not tell you
       how i feel
       when you catch me
staring
       but i just
                       can't
         help myself
i neVer want to miss
       a single blink
a wink
       no time to think)

i confess
words,
the words,
keEp
running
sprinting
dancing
prancing
in my mind
but i cannot find
an acceptable order
to confess them in



love in you i am with



one two three four five six


and, oh father,
there is no need to confess
for We have not sinned

he would not look
upon me
if i was the last to exIst
he merely
glances over to me
now and then

and, oh father,
you know
how i desire
These
tormenting
words
to go

he could barely tell you
the colour of my Hair
i could tell you
the colour of his
when he was five

milky way kid

do You know
me
am i
just a girl
who falls asleep
alone
in the backseat
Of the car

that old red polo
is not so appealing
anymore

and, love,
i confess
or
these words will die
on the lips
yoU leave
unkissed

i am in...

*i cant

it's past four am
and i bet you're sleeping
peacefully
in the next room
but everybody in here is snoring
if only i could hear you snoring
because i'm sure it will still be soothing
if it's coming from you.

but today
you touched my hand
and it was such a simple movement
but i couldn't breathe
but i couldn't focus
and i laughed when you laughed
because i wasn't listening
to the conversation
Just communicating with your hands

today
i could smell you
raw and pure
As you pressed my head
into your chest

and, oh lord, i swear i can smell him through these walls

(or maybe it's your smell clinging to my t-shirt liKe i'm clinging so desperately to the thought of you)

and i'm on this cold sofa
and your warm arms are so close
but not close Enough

and it's past four am
and i want you
so innocently
to just hold me
let me listen to your heartbeat
to steady mine

and it's past four am
and i still think you're beautiful
when you're tired
and your sleepy eyes are my favourite
in their darkened shade of blue

i woke up around four am
and looked instantly to where you were
before
and it's shock
because you're gone
because i couldn't watch you sleep
and you couldn't steady my thoughts with your very presence

and it's past four am
and i'd love you to walk back in here
and take me by the hand
and just hold me close to you
and let me sleep away the nightmares.

because i would treasure every **** second


it's five am
and i'm still awake
and you're still beautiful and
endlessly fascinating
(i'm begging for sleep so i can see you sooner)
and you're way out of my league
and it's all just pointless daydreams

but you touched my hand.

I like you in the backseat of the car.

The first time
I took long (stabilising) breaths
because you were so close
that I could taste your aftershave
in the
            limited
                          amounts
                                            of
                                                  air.

I could only focus on your close proximity
and I bit my lips to stop myself from smiling
stop...
pretend to enjoy the scenery

even though your face
is a perfect landscape
that not even Monet
could create.

I fell asleep in the backseat
that night
The driver guided by the
headlights
street lights
moonlight

but I was guided by you
as you put your head on my shoulder first
saying it was okay
no-one knows us here
in the confined space

except the pair of eyes occasionally
flickering to me and you
through the rear view
mirror.

I haven't been able to close my eyes
and sleep next to someone
for so long
because I'm still a little afraid
of the dark

and even more afraid of the darkness
in my own mind
but the possibility of nightmares
jumps the gun on them all
and scares me to death.

But you got me to sleep
peacefully
and let me stay there
even though I murdered your arm
with my head

like I nearly did once to my own body

you
held my head to your shoulder
pulled me a little closer
as we went over the speed bumps
as if you wanted me have me one less disruption in my life
even if it was only for a moment.

I begged time to slow down
let me stay here
let
       the
              tick
                      tock
                               stop

because maybe if the clock hands
stop moving
my hands can move
onto yours
our fingers will become as intertwined
as our complementary minds.

Now,
my head is on the pillow
but it's not as comfortable as your shoulder
nor is it as warm as your arms

because I like you in the backseat of the car.
do you like me in the backseat too?

(i like you in the backseat of the car.
do you like me in the backseat too?)

I like saying your name so much that when I do, I say it slowly and precisely
Enjoy the taste on the tip of my tongue and let it slip, so effortlessly, through my lips.
I don't let myself say it often, so sometimes I sound out the letters in my head and instead,
I dance with them.


The next time I say your name, it overflows with meaning that goes unnoticed by everyone else  
I pretend your name is just another word

It's a secret between your name and I that even you are not aware of

There you are, structure, bones
standing tall in the sunlight
all of the personality drained away.
Oh, goodbye to that twinkle in your eye
Goodbye to that thing we couldn't put our fingers on, that thing that sparked passion
Because all you are now, is a skeleton.

A skeleton with so many ghosts, war veterans, teachers and teenage girls that I used to know,
even me.
That old version of me who skipped, smiled and run her fingers through her hair
she dances through the corridors when no-one else is there.

Along they came. Dress you up, ready for business. That's one thing I learned from this, patch yourself up, make yourself look okay and no-one will realise how broken you are. No.

No, they won't notice the graffiti marks of those who have been,
on your skin.
No, they won't notice those damp patches,
in the corner,
of your eye.
They didn't notice how your ribs creaked as you let out a sigh,
your final goodbye.
They certainly didn't notice when you closed your eyes to die,
my skeleton...

I remember when you comforted me from the world with soft, warm arms and friendly words.
I remembered how you nurtured us and watched us grow.
A loving kiss on the cheek and off we go, but I couldn't let you go.

So here I stayed to watch you drift away with each passing day as they measured your waist,
for the suit.
Pull it in tighter.
A stitch here,
a stitch there.
Tighter.
Iron out the crease.
Tighter.
No room to breathe.

The suit may not cover your face, but it is a mask, covering up mistakes.
The mistake of your missing heart, the drive, the ambition.
The mistake of your missing eyes, seeing goodness in the world, giving beauty to the hopeless.
And the mistake of your missing smile, inspiration for lost souls trying to find their way home.

But you, you were home to me, my skeleton.
Now however much you lose or decay, you will never go away.
You will always be there, a ghost in my memory.

My loving skeleton who is now in a suit.

Growing up on a strict diet of idealism, tiny spoonfuls and a bitter dessert of disappointment.
We weren't fed to be made strong, we were made wrong.
Lying to ourselves, the world, then being lied to in turn.
It's all we knew because when we were new, they sculpted us.
Filled us with fatal dreams and delusions of being indestructible which, ironically, lead to our downfall.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me."
That's the dream.
An impermeable barrier on your very being.
Because can you honestly say you've never been cut by a name?
Round and round they go,
you're constantly haunted by the echoes of spiteful venom that was spewed out
and is now mirrored by your uncontrollable hatred for yourself.
This is what we made.
Completely dead within
destroying yourself from the inside, out.
You've got a war in your mind and battle wounds engraved on your skin.
Mental brokenness is just as bad as physical,
Difficult to function but harder to spot instead.

So try it, go on. I dare you, go ahead.

Try not to limp on a broken leg.