to win in a room full of crowded people-
is to lose in a room full of sad poets.

to cry in a damp dark room-
is to stay calm when you gulp ocean water.

winter nights,
the gumtrees would brush up against my window.
i could hear the leaves fall,
and the branches twist,
the raindrops slapping the pavement,
the beaded droplets slithering down my window.
and when i looked out
into the midnight darkness,
i saw dim street lights,
and bobbing buoys detailed with marine lights.
i could smell the fine detail of smoke,
the salty crisp air.

those nights,
i wished your body was next to mine,
sleeping soundly-
i would have imagined you smelled like
salt and rain-
me, tracing the rope burns stamped into your palm.
and those nights,  
while the playful gumtrees tickled my window...
i knew everything would be sound
in the morning.

i love the way soft wood feels under my palm-
something once painful and rough, crafted into something so soft and beautiful-  
i can feel every crack under my skin.

it's like your hands.

eyes full with compassion, concentration-
normal people don't understand like we do
we are artists, and none of us are the same-
it's like with every rhythm, beat and octave
our bodies start to become the musics-
with every finger hitting a key-
our heartbeat becomes stronger
as it unlocks ecstasy in our minds-
nothing compares to that, for we are musicians.

last night, i drank five glasses of champagne-
the burn in my throat, the bubbles dancing in my stomach-
it was like with every sip, my naked soul and truth became unravelled-
i watched myself stumble and fall, slur and hope

and when i finally threw my body into my bed
my drunken mind asked me why? -
because the guilt started to settle
on top of the bubbles
and the lump in my throat started to settle
on top of the alcohol

they look at old photographs of me
i'm smiling ever too brightly-
a soft glow on my face
a crooked canine tooth  
salty lips and adventurous blood
pumping through skinny veins
i know i will never have you-
get you underneath me, your lips
and fingers smashing mine-
because i've lost all confidence when i'm around you

they look at me now
i am still smiling-
still ever so slightly glowing- once in a while-
i still have that crooked tooth
but i no longer have salty lips
nor adventurous blood-
i am too chubby, too short,
too broken and hurt
for you to ever love me again.

i look at myself then-
i look like i'm trying to impress
-dressed to the nines
even in the supermarket-
that's not me

i look at myself now
i am too depressed
for you to ever love me again.