He left his mark on me,
angry and aggressive.
His clutching fingers scrambling for purchase
on my delicate ivory skin.
He laid his claim like one would mark territory,
so that every absent touch would bring back
the phantom of his teeth,
haunting my flesh like a ghost.
Under covers at night it lit a spark in me,
but the dawn broke with my smile
shattering with the burden of my regrets.
I am filled with such shame
that the break in my skin
is a wound that winded it's way deep into my gut.
Your mouth upon my skin
raises the bile in my throat,
and I am sick of lust.
I am sick of the memory of you - of us -
and if I could wish away the night,
I would.
If I could wish away my fluttering heartbeat,
the fumbling darkness,
the alcohol in my veins,
I would.
I would wish myself away
in a second
because the thought of your hands on me
repulses me.
I am sick of your face,
burning in my mind.

We have a legacy
that we share in touches rather than words.
I have a whole life
spelt out in the way
I gesture with my hands
and tap my toes upon the floor.

The grace by which your fingertips dance across my ribs
tells me of how you'll never leave.
Your lips speak of how you love me,
in silence,
against the pale skin of my neck.
Your palms whisper to mine
talk of how the distance between us is like the stars
- constant, yet beautiful
in such a way that makes me feel tragically alone.

I cannot bring myself to love anything that isn't you,
or the softness that I feel when I run my hands through your hair;
I cannot bring myself to want when you are not there.

I have so much to hold onto,
so why does it still feel like I'm falling?
I've made a mistake
- no - I made a choice.
And that choice is already a regret,
and that regret is crushing.
Halfway between a pain and a hunger
for his touch,
so I fill it with the touch of another.
I feel so ******* ***** and wrong,
and worthless.

The sweet whiskey drown
burns my tongue.
And the smoke in my lungs
is a cloud I can blame
for the blur in my vision
and the way my lips find their purchase
on lips that aren't yours.
But when the liquor fades
and the smoke disappears
in my cold morning breath,
I suffocate.

Your fingertips whisper words I dare
not hear,
your eyes are the secrets
unspoken.
Through your dreams I see you, dangerous
in fear,
as I linger here, waiting,
broken.

A fleeting feeling,
once here, now gone.
A quiet question,
always heard, never asked.
That tender touch
of yours, of mine.
The igniting of a flame, hands
outstretched, reaching in darkness
for you, or me,
or love.

I’m still me.
I still eat and drink and breathe
And walk and talk and skip
And sometimes I try to dance even though everyone knows I’m *******.
I still cry when I watch certain TV shows
And laugh when I watch Titanic
Because of the one guy that goes spinning when he falls of the top.
I still hate tea – because it smells weird and it’s leaves –
And I’ll always be a caffeine addict.
I still sing obnoxiously loud in the shower
And spend evenings strumming away on my guitar
Even though I’m not that good.
I still write free-verse poetry
Because I could never get the hang of rhyming
And sticking to patterns.
I still like to say ‘**** the system!’ and ‘***** society!’
In moments when, really, those words don’t apply,
Because I still like to think I’m a rebel.
I still get scared of going to university
And moving out, and getting a job.
Of having to pay bills and shop for myself
And all those adult things that I don’t quite know how to do yet.
I still think and feel the same as I used to
And I’m the same on the inside.
The only thing that’s changed is
My view of my identity,
The clarity by which I see myself
And the way I let others see me.
I’m still me,
And I always will be.

A Sudden feeling
crushing, overwhelming
It’s everywhere, surrounding
No escape, no distraction
No denial.
It’s real then.
Then and forever
and you’ll never forget
never really escape.
It’s a forever thing.

I am a reaction to the world.
I am my choices and mistakes.
I am made by my ability to fail
and destroyed by that which I win.
I am more than a box or a number
and I am less than perfect.
I am not one, or the other,
I am everything I could ever be,
yet I will always strive for more.
I am the missing link, the frayed edge,
the broken word, the finished sentence.
I shall spend my whole lifetime
trying to think of my last words,
and it is only in the end that they
shall come.
And they will be mine,
they will be everything
I have hoped they will be.
I am infinite in my words.
Because words are easier
than breathing.
Words are always and forever.
I am all the words
that I have ever
spoken.
However, I am limited
by the words I’ve written.
I am more
than just
this.

tracing fingertips
over the inside of your wrist,
pressing lips upon your temple,
knuckles brush
your blushing cheeks,
your smiles is soft,
simple

I love you
for the way
you react to me,
I love you
for all the beauty
you see
in the things
I’d never look at twice

if I could see the world in your eyes
I think I’d like it more
than I do
because I am sure
that you see everything
so differently
and I see it the same
as everybody else

there is not much
that is special
about me,
but you
have such a way
with the world,

you
have such a way
with me

It doesn’t matter.
The number of smiles you put upon others mouths.
It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t count.
All those times you give your joy away.
It doesn’t count.

It’s not right.
The way they look at you, what they see.
It’s not right.

It’s never fair.
When your smile is stolen by anothers laugh.
It will never be fair
(the way you steal my lungs of air)

the way every inch you move
moves me to be thankful,
the way each second you laugh
counts for each smile I feel,
the way that you breathe
makes my heart feel full,
the way you never pray
gives me faith, helps me heal.

for all you give
you should never be sad
(sometimes, under covers, at night,
I am glad
I don’t have to see it)

All I can do
to make you smile too
is press my dried lips to yours
and hope my happiness finds you.

//winter//
the frost that clings to your bones -
like it lives there -
makes such a home under your skin
in the way that I wish I could
burry myself – deep within,
the warmth of your breath
ghosting the air,
rose tinting on your cheeks -
the snowflakes upon your hair

it is in this season
that your love is a blanket

//spring//
The flowers bloom in your hair,
the pollen dancing to your eyelashes
how can spring sit here
with you?
spend a day aside from the world -
spend a day away from me,
living within your own beauty,
this charm that you share
it’s almost unfair (to us mere mortals)

it is in this season
that your love is beautiful

//summer//
The sunlight in your eyes is a searchlight
calling me through those lazy days
like burning, the kiss of your skin
makes the shiver underneath my own
seem so unlike the season,
you step around
the heat in me
like it’s nothing
like it’s just incandescent

it is in this season
that your love is on fire

//autumn//
leaves fall around you – like a crown
a king of the season
and death doesn’t matter
when you hold so much life,
and drop not a single ounce of care
for the wilt in the flowers stem,
and the lightning, the clouds, the breeze
are side effects
of your touch

it is in my favourite season
that your love is more powerful than I

I want to trace the lines of your neck with my tongue. Let my taste buds stumble across the sharp tang of your perfume. I want your pulse, stuttering beneath my fingertips. To graze the skin stretching over your collarbones with my teeth. I want to mark you. I want those marks to last a lifetime with no hint of a scar. I don’t want you as a possession, I don’t want to take you as a sign of ownership. I want us quick and fumbling in the dark, a spark of closeness we can both feel. I want to mark you as a sign of my love. ******* bruises, nibbling softly, calling for the redness you blush to stay a while. I never cared much for the perfect ****, deep seated passion that blazes like a fire. I care for each gasp you’d make, the crisp reality of the imperfections upon the skin that I travel with my own. I care for accidentally biting too hard, whispering sorry into your ear, and soothing the indents my teeth made with cool breath. I care for the shaky laughs and trying new things and not being afraid of not liking something. I care for you under me, or me under you. I care for loving everything we do.

I just have a lot of dreams
that are so much bigger than me.
Bigger than
a website,
a phonecall,
a degree.
Bigger than
how much I know,
what books I read,
or who I meet along the way.
I have dreams that are too big to reach
but I’ll reach them anyway.

I could trip over forever
Like it was nothing
Like forever didn’t mean a thing,
Because it didn’t mean anything to you
Or, in reality, to me

I thought I could give you
That promise
And still keep it for myself,
But I was wrong
I am always wrong

Dancing over each piano note
Falling over every word,
The songs our bodies made together
Are silent now
Where they once echoed

We carried a tune
For a time,
But like every flame and glowing ember
We tapered out
Into nothing