believe whatever you want to believe,
but as for me, I believe that love wins.
Always.

THE WAY IN WHICH INSECURITY MAKES A HOME OF MY BODY,
LEAVING HER PILES OF SELF-DOUBT AND ANXIETY LYING ON THE FLOOR.
AS I CONTINUE TO STUMBLE AWAY FROM MIRRORS,
TRYING TO FIND A REFLECTION SHE HAS NOT BECOME A PART OF,
SHE REVEALS TO ME,
THAT THE MIRROR DOES NOT HAVE TO BE CRACKED IN ORDER FOR ME TO LOOK BROKEN.
I ASK HER WHY SHE HAS NOT MOVED OUT ALREADY,
AND SHE SAYS IT IS NOT HER FAULT THAT I ALWAYS LEAVE THE DOORS OPEN.
I TELL HER OF HOW I MISPLACED THE KEYS IN THE HANDS OF PEOPLE WHO COULD NOT LOVE ALL THAT I AM.
AND WITHOUT HESITATION,
SHE ASKS ME WHY I HAVE NOT YET CHANGED THE LOCKS.

If I erase all your troubles,
Throw them out to see,
I'd make the sunshine appear
Just on you and me.
I'll climb a mountain,
Build you a thrown,
I'd steal the moon,
And let you call it your own.
I'll hold your sadness,
Wipe away your tears,
I'll never let you go,
I'll protect you for years.
Please know I love you,
You are so dear to me,
Without you in my life,
I'd have no clue where I'd be.
You've opened up many doors,
Shut out all the demons,
You've made me love life,
For now through all the seasons.

youcouldhearourflesh                                 rip
                                                                ­                apart.

(as though it had ever beentogether
as though we were ever
                                                            ­             more
than car crashes
than house fires.

I held onto your address, you know
when you held on to my hand;
when you held up the traffic;
when you                                                        left
 ­                                                                 ­                  me
and drank
                                                           ­     
                                                           ­               Copenhagen
through a paper straw.


The whetted splendour of it all:
I wonder if the drowned ever
noticed
how the sun kisses                                     The Sea?
                                                            ­                                
down
                           ­                                  
                              ­                      we
                                        ­                                                  
sank.

Did your feet touch the bottom or
did you                                                              ­ swim
to the sound of -

to the sound of br ea k ing vi oli  n s ?
I snapped each string
like I was                                         pulling teeth.


Your address  folded into
                                                         wav­es,
your house burned to
                                                         dust,


the kind god                     keepssafe -
“one last
                                                        keep sake”
in his pockets.



If I tightened my hands,
doyouthinkicouldchokeonthis
                              ­                                      cable?
Wouldthatstop                              time or
your voice or
my voice;                                       the voicemails;
the answer machine that
no one                                            ever
                                                                ­  answered?


My blueeyed boy was born in              goodbyes
he sleeps in seas                        
                                    ­                            irrevocable:
and The Tide washes him home to me
                                                              ­  every day.)

it sounded like                             fingers
tangled in                                             phone wire
and br ok e nv io l in  s.

we were born with death written on our arms.
you
wear it like a tattoo;
i wear it like a barcode that
god
stuck on the ******.
cashier yells
                         “NEXT PLEASE”
& you try to get laser treatment.

smoking in graveyards the clouds sang.
we
fell in slow pieces.
nobody will recognise the tune.
god
has left us a sign,
sign reads:
                  GONE FISHIN’
i hold you crying in his hallway.






you started wearing death on your sleeve.
i
need a new skin;
you need to get a better shirt.
god
is not a dressmaker
but instead
                       a lover -
unbuttoning the words on my headstone.

You are so summer.
You are baskets of wild flowers
and dew drops on grass leaves.
The scent of peppermint carried steady
on a soft wind -             that's  you.
Stranded in the palm of your hand:
a glass shipwreck -  I am stuck
like tired eyes on candleflames.
You are so late nights; early mornings,
pastel shades of rising skies.
Paint me lilacs and baby blues.
Picture me in the pink of spring
under satin dresses; silk songbirds
singing breezes, sewing seeds.
Wrap me up in cold arms while
I wrap you in the warmth of dusk.
You make the sunset blush
every time you step out of your car.
I watch you wipe the dust off the horizon
in a single brushstroke,
I am in love with  the view.
My veins are filled with sunshine
that spills from the stereo.

You can't take me home
if I make a bed in your fingerprints.

Why are we so quiet?
I will tattoo that question onto the tip of my tongue in the hope that it will smudge onto yours.
Why  -  are we  -  so quiet    ?

"Shhh,"
he tells me in a 3am bus stop
"Loud ain't sittin' right in my ribs."

He's got this idea in his head that god can't save his soul
that god is just a concept
that god can only be found in the crease of a bible spine but

OH,  MY GOD
I LOVE THAT BOY.

It's like when you lean on a piece of wet newspaper and the text imprints on your skin except,
there are no words -
just memories
and they are inked on the inside of my veins like

remember the other week when you were sleeping in my bed and the sun peeked through my curtains and made your eyes flutter?

That's the front page headline.
That's why I believe in absolute perfection
that's how I know beauty isn't just a concept
because I found god in the crease of your spine that morning.

I want every Sunday to feel that holy.

You are a cathedral pointing your spire to the sky saying
"KIRSTY, WHAT CONSTELLATION IS THAT?"
and my eyes search for
ursamajorursaminororionsiriussagittariuspisces-
I CAN'T FIND ANY OF THEM.
How can I align the stars when I have drawn more beautiful alignments
between the freckles on your skin
?

I kept telling you to be quiet until I pulled up your shirt and read the first page of your ribs:

IN THE BEGINNING,
GOD CREATED NOISE.

I have been there for a first breath
I have been there for the last breath
I have been there to save lives
I have been there to make lives better
I have been there for tears
I have been there for joy
I have been there in the light
I have been there in darkness
I have been there , when there was nothing I could do, But be there.
Today I cant be there, because Upon awakening this morning, although my eyes opened ,I was blind
The awful creature of darkness crept in through the night and stole my vision, my happiness, my being. This creature is called depression, I am Still me , but not myself.
I have been there, will you be there