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Laura Coulton May 2021
Right person, wrong time.
All of the things I wish I could’ve told you.

From the minute I met you, I knew I would love you for the rest of my life.
Sitting up on that hill with you,
In the dusk,
The summer warmth still lingering.
Looking at you that day, I just knew you were my person.
It broke my heart how little time we had together.
I cried in the car on the way home,
Mourning what could’ve been.

A few days later,
After sleepless nights and crying until my body was bone-dry and numb,
My phone screen lit up.

It was you.

My heart flew into my throat and I froze.
You went out of your way to find me,
And I guess you felt the same as I did in that moment of your life.

We spoke day and night,
You were all I wanted to pay attention to for such a long time.

Waiting for you at the train station that day was the most scared I have ever been in my life.
As soon as you came up to me and enveloped me in your arms,
Everything melted away.

I was home.

I could’ve spent all day with you,
Talking to you,
Kissing you,
Just watching you.
Trying to entrain every part of your being into my brain,
As to not forget a thing.

When you shouted from the train that you love me as you were leaving,
Everything came crashing down again.
You were leaving me,
And I couldn’t handle it.

I was young and I was stupid and I was hurting because I couldn’t be with you,
So I began to self destruct.

I pushed you away and I hurt you so you would leave me on your own accord.
In the process,
I hurt you more than I ever wished,
And I regret that every day.

I wish I could’ve held on,
I wish I couldn’t pulled myself together for you and made it work,
Because it would’ve been so worth it.

But I was weak
And I broke.

I love you,
I have since the minute I met you,
And I will forever.

Being alone scares me,
But what scares me more is the thought that I may never get the chance to love you like you always deserved.

I will always be here, quietly supporting you and rooting for you to find your happiness,
I just hope that one day I can share that happiness with you.
Not a day passes where you don’t cross my mind.

All my love, forever.
23.10.2015 - ♾

- L
Laura Coulton May 2021
The thought of ‘the one’ has overtaken my mind the past few days.

Is my person
The boy I met on the coast,
Wind swept,
Ocean eyes.

Is it the guy I found
At every house party,
Every single one,
And made sure we kissed each other as much as we could while using the excuse of alcohol.

The man who took me into the garden,
Onto a power box up the road where it was quiet,
And took my hand,
Ran his fingers through my hair,
And kissed the breath out of my chest?

I think I know.
Laura Coulton Dec 2019
You pretend I'm beautiful so that you can tell your friends that I am.
You pretend I'm beautiful to please yourself, but I'm not beautiful.
I'm like poetry.
I am unbalanced and messy and confused and sad and dark and powerless.
But I act soft and beautiful to please you.
And even though you know it's wrong you go along with it.
I am not words on a page, I am not a sentence strung together with misplaced syllables and adjectives.
I am broken bones and scraped knees and tangled hair and an aching mind.
I want to be gorgeous and stunning and flawless but I just can't be.
The fact is, that my mind is a mess and I can't hold myself up with both hands while trying to drag you along on my 'fairy-tale'.
I am lost.
Lost within this messed up world.
I have nowhere to go, no one to talk to, nowhere I actually belong.
I want to tell you about my flaws, about how my imperfections are holding me back from something truly beautiful, but I don't want to inconvenience you with my issues.
So i write and I always knew salt water was never good for ink and typing this up is difficult because the words i scrawled down the other night are warped and distorted into angry, deep blue blobs of nothing.
They have been ruined by the hate and the sadness that only my heart can hold.
But I always write in ink so then you can't erase it, just like I can't erase the stupid love messages you carved into my heart until they were believable.
And I guess that salt water was never good for you either. Because whenever I pressed into you with those emotions running down my cheeks you pulled away slightly, and held me looser.
So I tried to pretend that my tears were really just ***** of happiness
Dipped in salt.
That my sadness was happiness disguised in a black coat.
And now all I really want is to be the poetry you want me to be.
I want to be the fresh flowers in the vase,
I want to be the towel, straight out of the dryer,
I want to be the clean sheets on a bed.
I want to be fresh and clean and soft and pretty for you.
But I just can't.
Laura Coulton Nov 2019
Sometimes, I sit and I think
About how I was an almost to you.
We were an almost.

It suffocates me,
Trying to explain our almost.
As there is no other name for what we had
Than almost.
But I believe that it warrants a much better name,
As it felt so special, it still feels so special.

I still always think about our almost,
And it makes me tired to my bones.

When you called me gentle,
When we sat in the trees, barely speaking,
When you made me coffee at 3am,
When we watched a scary movie and then talked about it until the sun rose,
When we had a few too many drinks and played Jenga in your dining room,
When we just sat there, on your porch
Revelling in each other’s existence.

When you touched me, so softly.

And my body aches now
Unfulfilled
Wishing that our almost
Became something more.
I still love him
Laura Coulton Nov 2019
The thin, green tendons curl and creep along the unrelenting metal.
Sprouts cover the abandoned trail, growing, climbing, maturing.
White buds surround the path like a floral passageway, awaiting its next guest.
At times, the beaten track disappears beneath thorns, grasses, seedlings
And the way is concealed, a missing link between the beginning and the end.
You almost become displaced from reality, but then you find yourself at a modest clearing surrounded by weeds and beautiful little blooms
And an old, wooden bench.
Inscribed in it are many different names, holding the remembrance of people who visited before,
but who have now gone their own way.
The scratches in the ragged wood are memoirs of the ones before us, who have spent small moments in this opening when it was pristine, fresh, neatly pruned.
Sitting on that moth-eaten bench, you can see the glow of the sun reflecting off the tide as it murmurs gently to the sky.
Gone are the days when the path was easy, when the seat was sturdy and the metal was clean.
Leaves now tickle your neck as you walk through the thick shrubbery, and reach down to touch your legs, your arms, your back
as though wondering why a perfect stranger is now back in its home,
Invading the serene area,
after so long being isolated.
When it's sunlight, the ocean glistens and whispers its secrets to all who will listen.
The hills stand tenacious and guard over the innocent.
Everyone below goes on with their lives, without glancing at two figures sitting on the hillside, barely visible amongst the thicket and brush.
When nightfall comes
It seems as though all the stars have fallen upon the city, one for each person,
And the dark expanse of the hushed sea stretches on forever, the ending out of sight.
The heavens and the earth seem to have merged together, so it is now one.
No movement below, except for the wind slowly pushing past weak branches, tugging at leaves and sleepy flower buds, humming a song while the city slumbers.
All man-made objects obscured in the dark, and now it’s just raw nature,
Pure and simple.
When the rain begins to fall, it becomes even more beautiful.
The greenery turns silver under the faint glow of the moon breaking through its prison of clouds.
The raindrops fall off sodden fronds, silently soaking into the dry earth, petrichor filling the air
Seeming to relax the world.
The air sounds static, the constant sound of the droplets impinging the clammy terrain.
This is our place. It is where we spent our days when it was easy to access, when there were often others sharing the space with us, but also once it was fenced off and deemed too treacherous to enter.
Still, we, sentries, go up to our lookout,
And watch the world go by in front of our eyes.
I wrote this about 4 years ago. It is a very special place and I miss it and him. Every day.
Laura Coulton Nov 2018
He taught me that I don’t own myself.
He taught me that this body of mine is his for the taking
My mouth only opened when he allowed it to
The clothing on my body was ordered on by him
My door never shut
My heart never open.
He told me that I couldn’t control myself
I couldn’t handle it
I’d be a mess
I’d **** it up.
He told me I was only pretty was because he said I was
Only happy when he said I could be
Only alive if I did what he said.

But you,
You asked.
“Please”
“May I”
“Do you mind”
You are gentle, kind
You call me beautiful on days I don’t feel it
You make me happy on days I feel like the Atlantic is hiding behind my eyes
Ready to flood my dim bedroom with my anguish
You calm the storm with your presence
The demons stop laughing at me
And they hide
Scared of the tranquility you bring to my mind
You let me own myself
Make my own decisions
It is unfamiliar
But it is good.
So good.
Laura Coulton Nov 2018
You told me you cared
You passed me those words like crushed berries in palm
Only to force them down my throat
And as the acid taste dissolved my sense of understanding
I found out they were poison
Yet they were already in my system
Making my heart beat rapidly and hands clammy whenever you are around
And now I stand, slumped
Water spilling over my shoulders as I try to sterilize my worn frame that you touched
But didn’t ever really touch
And the bile rises in my throat as my body tries to get rid of the toxicity you subtly forced into it
But this downpour will never match the deluge that has fallen from my eyes over the years
The rainfall that escaped my temple, my sanctuary
Because of you and your lovely words
Your intoxicating voice
Your breathtaking smile
So now as I try to drown the thought of you in a bottle of stolen *****
All I can think about are the drowsy nights we spent together
Sipping on the same substance
And now I can do nothing without being reminded of you.
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