I'm single, a recluse;
all because a great personality isn't -
aesthetically pleasing.

Mother is there when I get home from school,
I'm happy there, hyper and playing the fool.
But as I pull on the handle and turn the key,
I feel a sense of dread and fear fill me.
I have a secret, a dark one,
A secret I've never told anyone.
Everyday when I come home,
Mother waits till I'm alone,
Then she'll hit me with a spoon or shoe,
Till I bleed, till I'm black and blue.
Dad left us when I was three,
Since then all she's done is blame it on me.
I'm ugly, stupid, and tarty
It was my fault he left us, "You hear that you brat?!",
With a duck and a dive, I sometimes manage to swerve,
But I know in the end I'm going to, "Get what I deserve".
Hospital a few times, "I was playing with my brother",
It's one lame excuse after another.
One of these days, I'm going to break free,
One of these days, I'll be truly happy.

But until then I tell no one,
I have a secret,
I'm not telling anyone

I belong to you
whether you like it or not.

ever since that celestial night we spent together reminiscing about how broken we both are

but not the kind of broken
that people are afraid to touch,
or the kind of broken that can be seen on the surface,
the kind of broken that comes with giving your heart willingly into hands that tremble and shake whenever they hear the word 'commitment'

what was it about your touch that made me forget every dark and protruding insecurity that paid rent in my heart

Was it the way the corner of your eyes wrinkled every time you blessed this world with your forgiving smile

was it the way your laugh sounded like every one of my favourite songs perfectly in unison

was it the way I finally understood what home meant when you grabbed me by the shoulders and told me that I am a song worth being sung from rooftops

Was it the way I romanticized the idea of us, two dismantled antiques on a dusty floor, neglected and unappreciated, falling in love with each other  

maybe.

I'm not sure if you're 'the one' but I am undoubtedly sure of the way I wish I could replay moments we've shared over and over and over again and maybe some how download the first time you ever uttered 'I love you' onto my retinas

I am sure of my devotion to you and how it is synonymous with how the moon will never give up on the sun, how the bees will never give up on daisies and how we will never give up on each other

I am broken
and I am mangled
and I am terribly sorry

but I am also blossoming with love and the burning urge to finally define 'forever' with you, if you'd let me.

a woman
appreciates a man
that can penetrate
her mind
deeper than her body.

our parents were broken by their parents
who were broken by their parents.




& now they break us.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.