Molly Hughes

Molly Hughes Aug 2014

Burn

I always thought
I was made of concrete,
but it turns out my walls
are paper thin.
Paper burns
and you set me on fire,
so now I'm nothing
but dust and ash,
damp with salt water
and scattered by sighs.
I hope your clothes
smell of smoke
that makes you remember,
and I hope it makes you choke,
and struggle to breathe,
just like I did,
so that one day you'll realise
that you shouldn't play with matches.

Molly Hughes Aug 2014

Deckchairs on a Pebble Beach

Deckchairs
on a pebble beach,
hands almost touching,
fingers brushing.

Deckchairs
on a pebble beach,
excited laughter,
quickening breath.

Deckchairs
on a pebble beach,
sun setting,
night time creeping.

Deckchairs
on a pebble beach,
the child who collected
shells on the shore,
a child no more.

Deckchairs
on a pebble beach,
sandcastle hearts
and tidal wave tears.

Deckchairs
on a pebble beach,
the seaside
will never
be
the same.

Molly Hughes Jul 2014

Smile

Plenty of things in life make me smile.
Warm rain, Mexican food, Christmas, new clothes,
old friends, holding hands, sleeping in, the smell of fresh laundry, sitting on the floor, Berlin, walking home at 6am, taking pictures, learning a new word, having my back tickled, coffee and cake, the sound of a record finishing, music, Disney movies, snow, the cinema.
But you,
telling me to smile,
after seven hours on my feet behind a hot bar,
rushing around a shop floor hanging out clothes,
serving food for you to eat,
is not one of them.
And if you're telling me to smile
because "It might never happen",
it already did,
when you decided,
that as a woman,
I must be smiling.
****.
You.
Now I'm smiling.

Molly Hughes May 2014

Fragile

They say
that food and water
are essential to survive
but I've drank all I can
and I've eaten till I'm full
and still
I feel like
a daisy
in winter

Molly Hughes May 2014

I'm (not) Okay

My throat hurts
from screaming silently
in crowded rooms,
and my face aches
from smiling
far too much.
But still
nobody hears
and still
people ask
"Why the long face?",
even though
I made extra sure
to laugh
at all the right moments.
How do I explain
that my heart
feels like it's trapped in a vice,
that my eyes are so very tired
from constantly blinking back oceans?
I can't.
One more smile,
that almost makes my cheeks
crack,
and an
"I'm fine"
will do
instead.

Molly Hughes May 2014

Blinded

I wish the world was
blind,
so that somebody could finally
see me.

Molly Hughes May 2014

Hungry

I’m always hungry,
so I’m always eating,
and I’m always growing,
even though I can always hear the wind whistling
around my chest,
cold lashes that escape when I open my mouth,
freeze the air when I try to speak.
So I tell myself,
“One more slice of cake,
on a lonely Sunday,
surely can’t hurt”,
right?
I wait for a reply,
from the empty room,
but I’m already licking
the crumbs off my fingers.
I want to
gorge
on happiness,
drink down mugs
of sweet nothings
that will make my heart stretch
instead of my stomach.
God knows,
I have enough room
in this swollen rib cage.