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.

If I clean my room, then I
can allow myself to be
happy.
But, at the end of the day
I'm just a sad girl
sad in a very large room.

I could give us forever, my love.
I could give you forever.
It's not selfish of you,
to want to die is natural.
But, I want you for more
than the natural time given.

I have wandered this earth,
lost and lonely.
Waiting for someone, who I didn't
even know.
Your wick is burning low,
and the wax has evaporated.

How could you stand to leave me?
I can give us more.
I want more.

I'm shaking as I go down to meet you
and I don't like to see you in chains.
I know, I know.
Shh, listen-
It isn't time yet...
I need more time.

I know my efforts are fruitless in the end,
because the chains were never locked.

In another life,
we would wake up intertwined.
Silly grins on our faces,
and teasing each other about
our morning breath.

In that life,
we are kind and loving.
Playful kisses, and reasonable fights.

To me, you will never be
The one that got away.
Instead, I let go of something
that was not meant for this life.

In my mind
you are in my arms
loving me without thought
but you aren't you
and i am alone.

I want to tear you off,
cauterize the wound,
and never think of you again.
How dare barbarism overcome
something that has grown upon me?
Turned from child into tumor.
One part of my body I actually
had grown to appreciate,
soiled by a sober man
to a drunk teenager.

exhausted, ill, and young
I trodded along to meet you.
I felt dizzy and tired, yet
still I went to meet you.
Is it because we were young?
That now I realize that sickness
and in health should not be
at my own expense.

Seasons come and go,
years float by
and the earth keeps on turning.
But for me to grapple with the fact
that I am no longer sixteen
and hopelessly, desperately in love
or how I am no longer 14 and
believing myself to be immortal,
is much, much harder then I ever thought
it would be.

there are two sides to this coin.

The first side could be my pessimism,
and maybe its just my mind playing tricks on me.

The other side could be that this is reality.
That i truly am impossible to love.

No day will be heaven,
if I don't find a problem I will cause one.
My emotions are oceanic-
unpredictable at best.
I don't speak well,
and don't think before.
I don't know if I can fully love you.
I can be obsessive and distant at the same time.
Physical contact is sometimes suffocating,
blame that on drunk men,
and I'm apathetic.

will the love of my life even want me?
to say I am a late bloomer would be
understating it, slightly.

do I even want me?
how can I morally give myself to someone,
and force that burden on them.

I've always been a flight risk

If I wanted it, it could have been perfect.
Not romantic, but fun and casual.
Just a casual hook-up, no strings attached.
I'd leave in the morning with a spring in my step,
and a smile on my face.
Or you'd wake me up with coffee, or hold me close.
And I'd feel warm, and safe.

But I didn't want it.
I didn't want your hand burning my skin, nor your
face pressed near mine.
I didn't want to see you or feel you
or know you.
Why didn't I speak up? Tell you no?

Would you have stopped?

I had never kissed you with such passion
you had remarked later on whilst i lay on your chest.
It was so different,
had something changed?
I smiled and shook it away
too timid to tell you that you tasted of nicotine
and i had given up.

Nothing stings me more,
or swells the bile deep within the pit
more than the realization
that i can never be sure of anything.
I don't know you, or her or anybody.
If I drop a penny I can't be certain it will land.
I desperately want control, yet I won't ever have it.

A marble statue down the isle.
Picturesque as you want me,
an image in ivory.
My heart breaks to say it,
or it would if i cared,
but for me to be authentic and
marble, as you want me,
then I should be painted neon and worshiped
accordingly.

You met me in brown,
knew me through red
and i suppose you favoured purple.
Black and green came and went- but you never really saw those,
and brown was temporary again.

And the stinging is worth it,
to be a colour you never met.

Amazing now,
children in love.
I pay time away, let them love.
Lose yourself in each other,
hold out.
It'll end, course it will.
Ah, but that doesn't mean you should stop.
Love freely and open yourselves.
Time is cruel but now,
now is beautiful.

Was probably the biggest lie I told myself.
That its normal to feel uneasy
at words unspoken,
and it's okay not to trust your partner.
Because it shouldn't matter that there are bad parts,
as long as there are small goods.

But it's all a lie.
I want to feel safe and secure and loved above all,
and it should not be conditional on my submission.
I want to be a person who is silly and laughs without fear
or withdrawal.
Because it's not commitment I was afraid of,
It was you.

Whether it stings or collects honey,
it is always a bee.
And you are a bee.

To grow is to develop,
as we all do with age.
A seed becomes a flower, a tadpole into a frog.
But you, you are a bee.

Yes, I'm denying your change.
Because to change is to show and you only
seem to tell.
To tell me, of all people, you've grown.

A bee is still a bee,
whether it stings or not.

My sweet darling,
How i have watched the years praise you,
blissful for 68 turns.
It breaks my old heart to watch you wither.
Your still beautiful skin is lined and deep,
and your breath is leaving fast.
Oh, how i long to preserve you!
Alas, it is now your time,
and i must step back once, now and forever.
I can't wait to see you again.

darling, let's not bicker tonight.
hold my hand for just an hour longer
and we can waltz around this edge.
you shan't tempt me tonight,
although my defense is slipping.
why don't we kiss away the light
tonight,
and step into the dark?

it's not hyperbolic to say
that i will not be missed.
When the dust settles, and the fae hide between them;
when the fire burns out to ash-
no. I won't be missed.

It's a promise they make to you.
Just after you do it.
When your lungs are freshly pumped,
and your wrists bandaged up.

The age old lie,
"It get's better, give it time."

How much time must I give to you?
You insistent slime.
How dare you claim to have an answer,
when there was no question at all?
Only a solution.

I wrote my oath in my blood and scarred my skin,
in my meek desperation to find something.
Anything!
I've cursed my organs and raptured my throat.
If I dare let myself think about it, then I can still
taste the bile I swallowed.

And yet. Still.
I am here.
I have been cursed to wander this world for eighteen years now,
and not one thing I have found has given me my answer.

It's not a sign, It is a burden.

I'm not an emotional woman.
I cry scarcely and secretly,
but there's something to be said
about seeing the rain
for the first time in years,
that truly and utterly
moved me to tears.

I could not hold Salvont
in the same way I clutched the moon.
Instead he asked me for knowledge
and my intention of my placement.
It's easy to ignore Salvont,
as I can simply step away.

I held the moon in my hands today,
and I wept a little.
He asked me,
"you do you weep?"
and we shared the burdens of the world.
Mister Moon is not wise,
but he is reliable.

I am well acquainted with Sad.
We have performed a waltz or two,
perhaps a Pas de Deux.
And I thought I liked Sad-
but I suppose that's purely from habit.
And nothing can, nor will compare
to the ecstasy that Anger brings.

For the first time, in a long time
I lost myself.
no, no. Not lost...
Indulged myself.

How foolish of me to think that it was you
who was red
Ha!

It's not lust or love that surrounds you,
but rather the pure, unfiltered wrath
which engulfs and consumes me.

I do believe I have found a new mistress,
and I am loving the red.

I cannot love a Dido
so it remains unfortunate that you are, Dido.
Your love is riddled by a curse,
and my flight remains stronger than fight.
You cannot threaten your life on our love,
and expect me to stay in your grasp.
I loved before you, Dido, and I will love after you.
Do not bound me to Carthage, when a great Empire is calling to me.

i dare not stare in the mirror
to look at the girl who loved
another girl who loved
to hurt and use and lie.
The girl in my reflection is branded with
those awful words you spoke to me;
"You are the great love of my life."
Oh, how i wish i could start you a new life
away from me.
You're a habit at this stage,
each time I think,
"Oh Maybe She's Changed?"
until that ****** temper flares up
mine or yours, take your pick.

From my fathers stomach,
untimely ripped
did you cast your eyes upon me.
Betrothed by blood and you beat your wings
against my breast
to steal from me my youth.
My consent was reaped with guilt,
yet dare i ask fidelity from you?

You foresaw your brothers actions,
mimicking our romance
stealing youth again and providing
a queen for all dare enter.

She was younger than I,
summoner of spring.
A babe that still begged for a mothers touch,
Oh her mother!
The soul that even the sun cast out...

i always forget how stomach wrenching the lows are. When I speak to you and you speak back it feels as if the world falls away. That you are the one whom poets beckoned for, whom stars crafted and whom romantics yearned for. But oh god, how the silence hurts. I'm too busy gliding that I forget the foundations of salt crumbling beneath me. The silence is sharp and red against my soft skin, and stands out as a bark of tree in the ocean. Perhaps I should have the words, "My fault" etched into my skin, so I know where to place blame as I desperately scratch myself away. I find myself once again furious at myself for letting you sink your teeth in and find a home in my arteries.

And now you've apologized. Your face pressed against the cool wood and whispering sweet nothings into the bark. And our love is a circle and I'm going to come back, and I want nothing more than the will power to walk away. How freeing it must be to love without a leash...

didn't i?
did the lose and poorly hidden notes deceive you?
did the open jar of pills go neglected?
did the overt staring make you blind?
no?
shall i go more blunt?

did the frequent crying fits appear normal?
and the ice rink of my wrist?
was the isolation of it all a part of growing old?
no?
shall i go more blunt?

did the words,
"I think i might need serious help, I am not doing so well."
seem casual in prompt?
or
"April 29th is a rather nice day."
slip over your mind?

dare you ask me
"why didn't you ask for help?"
when not one person turned to listen.

you can tell because my wrists are healed
no marred scar now.
except,
you've noticed an influx in inhalation
in regards to tar in my lungs,
as well as a freshly pinked scalp
from where the hair is white.
you've noticed i pause when near the road
or comment on architectural structure without prompt.

i am getting better because my wrist is healed
but i'm getting worse because my actions are subdued.

the harsh jab of an intrusive needle,
nor the empty space which darkness brings,
nor a giant of the sea
opening up and stealing me away.
how can i place fear in such material objects,
when my mediocrity and lonesomeness
haunts my waking moments?

you are the only person i feel i must apologize to,
for you were noble and kind for the duration.
I can't think of any sour words against you;
yet I salted the earth around us,
tarnished your name in our world by
speaking such ill and false tales.
I invoked such torrid guilt to stir within you,
and my only excuse could be my own twisted enjoyment.
To me you were a toy, yet to her you are the world.

i daren't even ask how it came
that my body and soul may be thrown across the sea.
yet i know this isn't the first time
in a life previous you hurt me too

one error of continuity, the death of passion;
take it from father time
enraptured in this ill fitting body
i'll watch you fizzle in a week.
Find Comfort In No One.

define me as the wasted youth
the ungrateful living
dare i be a poet during the days of Wordsworth?
or shall i rot like the predecessors?
every day is a continuum
of me wanting you back
wishing away my youth and dreaming
of emptiness

its so so easy
to close my eyes at night
and i am back in that hospital rooms
my un-slit wrists begging for release
and all i can think
is how you should have let me die

the last words she said to me
or rather, typed;
"no one will ever love you
in the same way i have."
and the reason i turn back to you
every other month or so
is because you make me,
along with the other sixty beaus,
feel the slightest bit loved

its been nearly a year
and it's finally time
but i can't help feeling
that i'm betraying you

a girl who should not have seen
the turn of her 16th birthday
is facing the consequences
of actions chosen for her
and now she waits 6 days
maybe less maybe more