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I was a new-born when you promised
You would carry me anywhere I wanted
And at any time I wanted,
You promised me safety
You promised me freedom.

Dedicated and deceptive
You had teased me growing up
But I never would have predicted
How malicious you could be
You fooled everyone, even me.

Parts of you were destroyed
But you always found other ways
To stick out, ugly and obscene
You screamed at me, you harassed me
And everyone else recoiled.

You were ruthless, relentless,
I needed your permission to leave
On the worst days I could do nothing
But lie there and seethe.

You were always there waiting,
Until I was distracted, to capture me
Trapping me in a time loop dimension
Loop after loop after loop;
Like an elaborate knot.

My tongue no longer tasted
My humanity began to rust
Like a corpse and its restless ghost
I was dormant but deprived of sleep
How could I rest under your glare?

Like a deranged anaesthetist
You forced me to the very edge
I hung over that abyss, wondering
If you would let my hand go, or pull me up
Until boredom struck again

Amidst the beeping and droning machines
Serpentine, you still twisted around me
Pungent disinfectant; the white-room scent
And the pointed metal tips
Their shrieking tongues turned to monotone.

Well, organs and cells,
I had long outgrown you and
Your demented, slothful ways
What did we have in common
Anymore aside from me?

But we are bound like conjoined twins
As fused together as can be
I’d die without you, you’d die without me
I aim to live in harmony with you
And help you gain a much sunnier hue.
// she falls in love the same way that she falls apart; quickly and all at once.

tumbling into his outstretched palms with a startling intensity, his fists clench and she cries.

she wants him to hurt her, leave smouldering bruises around her neck. Force your fingers down her throat and make her beg. maybe this love; choking sounds and blood.

it’s almost funny, the fact that she still hasn’t learned yet; make him your everything and you will be left with nothing.

and it feels like hell, almost romantic.

her lips part in the dimly lit room, gasping for air.

that’s the thing, there is nothing he could do to her that she wouldn’t do to herself. hold a knife to her neck and watch her soul drip from her mouth

one rib at a time you snapped them all like twigs and complained that she made too much noise. too much,

too loud.

lungs swimming in fluid yet she breathes out flowers, because that’s what pretty girls do; that’s what you wanted isn’t it babe? beauty. perfection.

don’t let him inside your head, keep him between your thighs or else everything around you will become white noise; fading into the background.

go on, romanticise it. i dare you.

force its unwilling bones into a metaphor or a simile.

pretend that we fall apart into beautiful, tragic spectacles and simply glue the broken fragments back together

she sat in the dark with a cup of tea between her shaking hands, resisting the urge to split her veins over the white walls and string her organs from the ceiling like fairy lights.

wanting to die in the most violent of ways is a lot less convenient than it seems; an unholy addiction of the rawest degree.

darling, i’m sorry he made you feel like you are hard to love,

because loving you is the easiest thing in the world //
it feels like you have my heart poised, perfectly, between your thumb and forefinger; rubbing and squeezing and pulsating until blood is drawn and the warm fluid slides down your wrist.

whilst you aren’t texting back, i’m emptying the remaining pieces of myself into a cup of coffee. each swirl of the teaspoon is another uneasy breath expelled; i pour milk into my stained mug in the same vain that i pour what remains of me into your open mouth.

i don’t know if you want it; maybe you like your coffee black but i've never given you that option. pouring and pouring and pouring. pouring myself into you without permission, without self-awareness or a need for reciprocation. i try to water you like a plant whose roots are already swimming in water.

i think your mug might be full already but i can't stop, i want to but I can't withdraw. i'm going to pour and pour and pour until you never touch another cup of coffee for the remainder of your days, till the smell makes you gag and cafes' become scorched ground.

at this point coffee is the only thing that it feels like i know; my organs floating amongst pools of sharp, bitter liquid. i push it longer and longer and longer, the hours between meals stretch into days stretching into lightheaded bouts of fainting. but it’s okay because i feel like i'm floating. so empty and sparse that i could keep pouring myself into you for an eternity and you would never get too full, your cup would never overflow from too much of me.

but i'm tired. tired of guessing and crying and starving and giving myself to you. i am not a watering can and you are not a wild garden. you are beautiful and I am hollow, the lifeless impression of what could have been lying in the freshly seeded soil. you are the budding head of the snowdrops in the spring, i am decay, rot and debasement.

you didn’t ask for it, you didn’t ask for any of this; you wanted me to stop. to stop trying to embed myself into you like dirt under your nails. but that is the crux of it all my dear; i can't and i don’t know how to. so i keep going, i kiss your bruises and clean your wounds; pouring and pouring and pouring.
// i’m terrified that next year i might hate winter; that the glow of the lights will remind me so deeply of you eyes that i’ll get that agonising ache in my chest again.

it’s always been my least favourite season, but for a while my dear, you changed that.

there was always something about the weight of the air,

thick and heavy with coldness and fog.

you made me realise that it’s the only time of year that everything tastes ever so slightly of cinnamon and ginger; you tasted like cigarettes and bubblemint gum.

after you left i took up smoking for a week purely because it tasted like you, maybe also because the burning in my chest was the closest feeling to being in love with you.

in my mind there is just us and you aren’t here to leave.

you whisper into my skin and i don’t cough up your words in the shower the next morning.

in my mind you don’t kiss me to forget and i don’t shake when you touch me.

the lights don’t stay off anymore,

you look me in the eyes as you **** me.

warm bedsheets tangled in a heap of exhausted limbs.

                                                 
his bookshelf was splitting at the seams;

bukowski

plath

keats and frost.

he asked me what i thought about love and i told him; it’s the bits of us that we give away with no sense of expectation or consequences. when you feel this empty you’ll do anything to fill the void in your ribcage.

we feel more pain than we know what to do with

so, we paint, draw, write and sing.

anything really, anything that helps us cling to the edges of humanity.

that was the thing, you always knew that you could count on me to get down on my knees for you babe, didn’t you? //
flatten your tongue
slip it between your teeth

n.

your little lips
forming an elipsis

o.

put them together
and may you declare
a word you’d so carefully deny—
no.

you spell it out
on table tops
shout it
from the rooftops

and when cursed hands
seek to defile your shrine
may you exclaim
"i am mine"
for my precious friends with hearts too soft to say no. may you be a little more selfish.

— The End —