I spilled treacle on the floor
Not carpet, luckily.
For hours I stared at the mess I made
I sat in it, letting the stickiness consume me
I tried to start to clean
But every moment I thought about it
I sobbed a little bit more
It’s just treacle
Treacle on the floor

I moved eventually
Stuck my hands in and scooped
It slipped through mostly
Resuming on the floor

Where would I put it?
What use do I have for treacle from the floor?

If I walk away from the treacle, it will still be on the floor
If I try to clean it, it will fall back on the floor
If I lay with the treacle, we both stay on the floor

Days go by and no one calls
No one cares that I’m on the floor
Or how long I’ve been here
Or how long I’ll stay
Or why I tried to make a **** today

she comes out every hour
I see her sporadically
desperately ******* the life from
the hollowed stick she brings
a new one each time.
sometimes she stands and looks
up at the stars
her breath not far ahead of her
and i watch her from the window
slowly loving her with every passing moment

When we lie there, counting the stars together,
the warmth of the bonfire still blazing,
and stinging our eyes to tears,
You admit to me that you believe us twin flames.
That we were once conjoined souls, and now
we have found each other again.

The world keeps turning as I process these words.
Twin flames...
This is a proposal you are making.
To tie a band around my finger and cut off my blood flow,
suffocating me back to purple- the colour you loved.

"Stay here" the air around us begs,
"Please don't go so far, this town is enough for now"
Suddenly I feel as Aeneas did,
when tricked by Venus and Juno.
And you have suddenly morphed into Dido before my eyes.

I turn back to the stars, because I cannot bear to see your face,
as I tell you instead, that we are soul mates.
And although I love you with every inch of my heart,
we are Laurie and Jo, and I feel nothing more.

You know I was sad,
and that my teenage years were rough.
Yet you still stare in disbelief at the
proof of purchase scattering my thighs
wrists
ankles
stomach.
The only valid form of proof i have
that i was sad,
and i never grew out of it

It started with a relapse.
Nothing too bad, but a relapse nonetheless.
I regretted it the second I put down the blade,
and picked up the cloth to clean.
I kept it to my right foot, hidden by a sock.
A new, safe secret.

Then the bone broke,
fourth toe from the left.
It oozed and swelled immediately,
turning horrible shades of purple and black.
Every step I took was agony,
yet I couldn't speak up, and admit to the bone I broke-
at the cost of admitting that I'm fighting a losing battle.

Should not be sobbing in her bed at night,
over the concept of change.
Things have changed before, and things will
eventually change again,
for it is the only constant in our lives.
But still, I can't let it go,
as the granary slips through my fingers.

I've waited so long to leave,
and to be my own person.
To love, to hurt and to mend.
But in all my wishful thinking,
I forgot who I was leaving.
And I'm not ready to say goodbye.