my skin is covered in green and
yellow and black and blue
fear grips me as much as love and
the memory of you is heavy on my mind

the colours that cover my skin (don’t?)
move and writhe and
the monsters haunt me at night
(they’re painted on my body and
we’ll never be free)

tangy blue taints my heart and
sometimes i
wake to the smell of
blood and destruction and
i don’t even mind at all

there’s a ghost in my chest and
a lock on my door and
i named them both after you

Cold knees knocking together in the pale sunlight. Click, clack. Click, clack. Two hands stretched out, grasping for something just out of reach. So, you’re here. I’m here, too. Did you notice?

If I screamed with the force of a hundred siren you still wouldn’t hear me. It’s not me you’re reaching for. It never was. So I’m left behind again, all shattered kneecaps and lost hopes, a heap of bones and flesh and skin, looking up from the bottom of a lake. Did you notice?

If I counted my breaths every time I spoke to you, it would be a different person you’re talking to. I wouldn’t be me, but maybe that way I’d be the most of myself. I sit still and let the smell of your skin drive me mad. Did you notice?

By the river you said I frightened you, that I was all pain and no gain, that I was poison and violence wrapped up in gasoline. I’d rather set fire to myself than let you leave, I thought. You left anyway, and left me behind. Did you notice?

I loved you in the spring and I loved you in the fall and I loved you in the winter, but all that’s left is a smouldering wreck and the crash of you has been wiped from my mind. I didn’t love you in the summer. How could I? Did you notice?

Remember that night we went out and got drunk under the stars and you kissed me until I couldn’t breathe and we fell apart, panting, laughing, gasping for air? Yeah, me neither.

She was born to love the moon while
his songs hailed to the sun.
Twins, twins, twins, twins, the words sound.

Her hair is short and dark when
his is long and light.
She hunts and swears and shouts,
he sings and dances and laughs.
Twins, twins, twins, twins, the words sound.

Frost covers her mouth and
his lips are warmer than the sun.
Her kisses are harsh like winter and his
are soft and sweet like midsummer rain.
Twins, twins, twins, twins, the words sound.

he’s as beautiful as
a train wreck
which is to say,
almost not at all
yet in his eyes, there
brews the storm of the
century and I fall
unknowingly and
unwittingly into
the slate-grey depths

he’s scratched like
a poem in the hollows
of my cheeks and
the surface of my bones and
even though I don’t love him,
I think it comes quite close

dear mama,
i know i left too soon and
i know i miss you but
i met a boy with
eyes like the river styx and
a kiss like a funeral.

dear mama,
there are no seasons here but
the light on his face and the
heart of the beast that
he killed for me a week ago are
bright enough to tell me that
time doesn’t exist in death.

dear mama,
sometimes he gets so angry that
the foundations of
our palace shake and shiver and
the fire in his soul and the
fury in his heart
frighten me.

dear mama,
it’s my last day here for
this year and he
holds me like he
doesn’t want to hold anything else and
i don’t know if i want to
leave at all.

he leans in, closer to
the face in the water and
eros strikes his heart.

he sees the marvel and the joy and
it’s so beautiful he
can’t look away.

as he moves, the
stranger moves as well and
even though the gods are
cruel and fickle and angry, he
thanks them when it gets dark.

the leaves are falling now and
the stranger in the water looks
weary and starving but he
can’t bring himself to
look away.

it’s winter first and then the
spring notices the boy is gone,
a story of days gone by with
nothing but a flower
in his place.

There are wilted flowers on the
windowsill, their vase small and
cracked, the water long since
evaporated.

The wallpaper is faded and
torn, long strips of it
hanging down like
decaying leaves.

She looks up from
her notebook at
a faint memory etched
upon her skin.

let me tell you about my lover
my lover is sweet

she is the mead i drink &
she makes me weak as much as
she makes me strong

she loves sad songs
(as much as i love her)
more than anything

she can be an icicle and stab you
in the chest, rip out everything that was
and replace it all with her love,
crying all the while

she can pick up the pieces of
your broken heart and
with her duct tape and glue,
help you put yourself back together again

let me tell you about my lover
my lover is sweet

(yesterday)
there was a hollow in my bed,
shaped like you and
all the stories you used to tell.

i don’t know if
you were happy but
i think i was, then.

(today)
all that’s left is shards of glass and
promises whispered over the
blade of a knife and
the heat of your skin is
imprinted on mine

(tomorrow)
i’ll take out the trash and
strew the pieces of what i
have left and
blow delicate flowers of
lost dreams and cold ashes

(after?)
it’s supposed to hurt
i guess (i know)
and the punch line of
this joke is
[ silence ]