I give to you
everything so pure
my heart, an untouched *****
my love, a brand new feeling

And you, your golden hair
your love for blur,
those tender lips
and the kisses we share

The arguments I bare,
the lies I take with salt
until the day you say with a croak,
this love isn't for me, this isn't me.

Maybe you never really
Loved me,
Something tells me that if you did,
You would've at least
Had the nerve to call.

Life moves on
But I'm just stuck here with
Everything swirling around me.
You seem fine now and
To the naked eye,
So would I .

But a part of me expected-wanted- you,
To know better,
To know that I was still hurting,
With all of this chaos
All I needed was a constant,
I thought that was you.

Since you've gone away,
I lie in bed
Remembering what it felt like
To have you by my side,
Thinking up rhymes and phrases
Because I can't sleep and
When I do drift awake,
My memories and words have all gone away.

Since you've gone away,
My smile isn't me and
I can no longer write or
Just sit and be happy.
The sun feels like a forbidden place
Because that used to be a spot for
Just you and me.

I want to tell myself I'm okay.
But I can't keep pretending
And living life this way,
I just want you back,
But you're better off without,
                                                  Measly Old Me.

The pretty people do the drugs
The criminals will do the time
The homely people do the work
Inside,
They don't like what they find
They don't have you
The way I do
Your t-shirt's large but belongs right here

You think I'm hot in yesterday's get-up
You prefer me when I'm fresh from a morning
When we both have a twang of slight halitosis
You're gross
But you loved the smell of my hair

I know that it's wrong
To think of you and grin
To recall the definition of your chin
The freckles on your chest
You hated them, wanted them removed
And I'd shake my head
And press my nose against your neck

Remember when we used to dance?
Front and center, your locks of gold would gather
Corkscrew
And condensate
Salty, sweet times
I'll find them once again.

Twenty years from now,
where will we be?

Perhaps you and your husband
will have grown apart,
but I know you’ll stay together
for the kids.

Perhaps he’ll even let you
go out late some nights,
in a short black dress
and high-heeled shoes
when you’ve kissed them all
goodbye.

He’ll know what you get up to –
but he won’t care,
and neither will you.

And neither will I,
‘cause I won’t know.
I’ll be in some little
coastal house,
writing my poems
and ignoring the world.

But I’ll probably look you up in the end.

Will you even be alive?
Will I stagger to the top
of a hill, in the rain
and on reaching the summit,
stare in shock, at your grave?

Will I fall to my knees,
drenched to the skin,
and reflect that, in the end
I am the lucky one
to still be living?

Or maybe – just maybe,
in twenty years time
fate will have brought us back together.
Maybe I’ll wake up every morning,
and see your face.

Maybe I’ll walk into the kitchen,
and see you lounging
in your pyjamas,
with a big ‘good morning’ smile
that you’ve been saving.

Maybe we’ll get rid of our excess bread
with regular trips to the pond,
and we’ll laugh, as the ducks gather
round us, like children
to fight over what we have brought.

(I would sell my soul
for a chance to live
in heaven.)

I don’t live in the present,
I dream of the future instead
and the best thing about that
is that it isn’t set yet.

For now, it is
all fiction –
I am in control,
I can make anything happen.

But really, all I hope is that
two decades down the line,
your happiness will always be
a little more than mine.

Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.

The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.

It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).

And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.

And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.

We are so young yet
Feel so done
Each milestone wraps a bow
Around an old run finalized
Let's take the new one for a spin
A journey untouched is just one to begin

We've waded in the waters of everyday
So boring, so gray
We want alochol!
The ferment of life,
Let me lull in it all
Let me dive in and feel
The bubbles in my nose
The fizzing of my mind
The growing of my carelessness
The numbing of my toes

Sip it, hold the fruit of life
It's heavy and dense but easy to slice
The skin is a facade, a
Surface just longing
To be punctured
Be prodded
Peel away all its wronged

So strange
How the flesh of our lives is repitition unearthed
But from my deirvation,
A new life,
I give birth.

The emotion
Of what I've become
Is something of a pendulum
I drift in lows and soar when high
I move, unless disturbed

If you'd like to feel my pressure
Feel the weight of keeping time
You can hold me all you'd like but
Hold me by the chain. At times
It seems like a boundary
But I take precaution
When healthy heart beats tug my core
Because if you hold me
Feel me
Knead me in your hands, you'll find the sharp point
Of what I'm living for

It may seem teasing
Delaying or sly
But I'm messy, so restless
Just test me
Swaying is what I do the best.