memories aren't good enough.
your figure in my mind cannot compare
to you in actuality.

your fingertips sweeping my body,
your lips hovering over mine,
my heart when our gazes meet.
it will never be good enough
to just remember.

intimate moments shared,
bodies close together.
connection.
and then I just leave.

it can't have meant to you
what it did to me.
surely not,
because you would have shown me...right?
did I show you?

feelings enclosed
behind these four walls,
little glimmers of emotion
swiftly tucked back into security.

we can't even talk,
I can't even show you.
distraction.
trying desperately to escape
your name, your face, your memory.

if I could erase your memory,
I would.
because it will never be good enough.

looking in the mirror,
holding my tummy,
grasping the memory of yesterday.

for it seems like yesterday
my baby was with me,
her body shared with mine.

I've etched my skin
with art for her,
but it's not good enough.

I shed countless tears for her,
gave her my liveliness,
but only for eight weeks.
It wasn't good enough.

I wanted to give her life,
everything she deserved.
my baby shouldn't have paid for my err.

I will love her for life,
and wait for her to return.

i am but a fish
swimming through the open ocean alone
and you are the rod
catching me again and again

everytime I think I've escaped
I think I've detached myself
and swam away,
I seem to be dragged back
another hook in my mouth,
my scales turning dull
as you reel me in and laugh.

dory, perhaps I am,
forgetting each second
and swimming back to land
in your arms again and again.
never able to find shelter
from your rod’s torturing embrace.

maybe I can’t,
and never will
be able to swim away from you for good,
for the current seems intent on pulling me back to you.

you make my heart flutter
with the lightest touch

run your hands over my body
I can't get enough

*** with connection
intimacy with passion
exploring new bounds of pleasure,
ones I believed were only fiction.

I crave you at all hours,
your lips permanently on mine.

there is so much beauty
in our knowledge of each other's bodies.

you've learnt how to love me perfectly,
playing my body like your own personal symphony.

years, I thought I wasn't destined to love.
naivety really, for I was so young.
but I had just never felt something quite that strong.
fake love, sure.
affection, obsession, nothing more.
maybe I fooled myself into thinking I loved,
merely swept my doubts and grievances under the rug.

now that I'm really falling in love,
I can understand.
a feeling so gentle and yet like quicksand.

I feel myself sinking deeper
and yet wanting to be swallowed,
to lie in his arms forever
the day never to reach tomorrow.

it's frightening really,
"my first love"
the stories of heartbreak you hear from everyone else.

I may not find the courage to tell him.
to wrap my arms around him and confess.
to lay my heard out on his chest.

completely vulnerable

I knew that inevitably
I’d have to go to a funeral one day.
Far into the future,
when I was old and greying.
Mature enough to grieve the loss.

I didn’t think my first funeral would be yours,
four months following
from your twentieth birthday.

I stood in front of everyone who’s ever meant something to you.
I dropped petals over your body.
I spoke words not nearly enough
to encapsulate the friendship we shared.
I felt the weight of the rooms grief upon my own.
I spoke to your family and I finally understood you.

Your body lying behind me,
dressed in white.
The bandaid on your forehead,
giving me a glimpse of where you cracked apart.

Now, I see your expressions in my little brother.
When he cut his hair,
hair the length of yours,
it felt like you left me again.

I hear your voice commentating on my every day.
I think, where are you right now?
Can you see me?

For I don’t know what I believe.
I don’t know where you are,
and I’ll drive myself mad trying to reach you,
trying to put us back in the past,
transport us back to fifteen year olds
who understood each other on a telepathic level.
We thought we had forever to bicker.

I will never find that in someone else.
You’re gone and you took a piece of me with you.

I remember dropping to the floor,
when I found out the news,
unable to breathe.
I called you nine times
before someone took my phone away.
You didn’t even have a voicemail.
How selfish of you not to give me hope.

When I hit twenty myself,
six months later…
It felt impossible
that you weren’t there.

I know you would have dressed up
for my ***** Dancing party,
And I wish more than anything
that I got to see you dance.

i don't know if the tears burning hot
are angry anymore
or if they're escaping silently
without a second thought

my world has stopped
the silence grown
like the feeling deep inside me
buried eternally in my bones.

where her words are hidden
and her thoughts kept in,
many people spoke,
not hiding their grins.
she wants to scream,
wants to fight.
but no sound escapes
until she takes flight.
her wings felt good
soaring in the wind,
and she smiled as screamed
all she had kept in.
her voice danced along
alone with the breeze
but then she awoke
and she was no longer free.

i never used to wonder
if i was important to you.
there was never a doubt in my mind
about the things we would do.

"open your legs"
"spread them wide"
so that you could peer in to see what's inside
but you're looking through the wrong window
my mind is more than my body, so you know.

now you've made me weak
and I'm somehow nervous just to speak to you
and I've placed all my worth
in the skin and bones
that once upon a time, captivated you.

that spark of excitement I feel
when you hand me a crumb of attention
makes all my highs pale in comparison

and while you ignore me
I'm left wondering
what I can do
to make us what we used to be.

the heart is just a pulsing muscle,
it doesn't deserve credit for how we feel.
the existence of a soul has never been proven
so I choose to look at love from a scientific perspective.

when I tell you, "I love you",
it's just a complex mix of neurons
firing signals around my body,
convincing you of these feeling
that are just made of chemicals.

"my heart beats for you"
no it doesn't.
it beats to spread blood so we can live.

when I tell you, "we have a connection",
it's really just my brain
wanting some stimulation.

from chasing butterflies
to chasing *******
that boys could never give to me.

as the years go on
we switch from one poison to another
riding bliss, not bikes
on a path to discovery.

sometimes you have to prune a plant,
to allow for new growth.
or sometimes you have to trim your hair,
for its own health.

occasionally, a bee commits the ultimate sacrifice,
and uses its sting,
to give its own life.

one flap of a butterflies wings
can trigger a tsunami.
just as one thought
can easily wreak havoc on me.

a flower only blooms
in the right conditions
and a tree doesn't grieve
when it comes to fruition.

it cannot be underestimated,
the significance of loss
for oftentimes it clears our path
for what we need the most.

you are strong,
strong enough to trust.
to place your heart in someone's hand,
but heal when it gets crushed.

you're strong enough to know the difference
between real connection and lust.
to seek out a future of pure happiness,
not endless shallow compliments.

so, you're strong enough to stand on the edge of a cliff
and blindly jump.
when you fall, and you're engulfed with a wild rush,
enjoy the drop. close your eyes
and let yourself be held
by the comforting wind and it's caressing touch.

but, when suddenly the ground seems all too close,
and the fear of impact drowns most
everything around you
and that rush that once coursed through your veins,
starts to itch and burn,

now you're back again.