/i love you forever, oliver. you hold my heart./

hand on cheek, soft, a caress. i melt under his fingertips.

/i love you for always, my elio./

i kiss each knuckle, dimpled. the tears fall, as i did for him.

/you’re like peach ice cream, you’re the breeze through the window. how on earth did the heavens let you leave?/

/they had cast me out, i didn’t agree./

mouth on mine. hand under the shirt. the sunlight catches the eyes locked to mine, and i plummet into his ocean.

/god help me./

stumble, towards the bed. land, on thin cotton freshly laundered. ruin the folds, crease them. peaches dance in the air, trickling down my throat and my collarbones and my ribs and my stomach and-

/oh!/

warmth envelops me, those ample lips softer than they appear. flesh, tongue flickers.

/oh, oliver. your mouth is dangerous./

it’s a curse, bittersweet. i am trapped, though why would i ever wish to leave? this soft cacophony of pleasure, this intimacy that holds me close and rises like a wave. i am close to the surface, i can feel myself breaking-

/you’re so pretty with your head titled back. but let me see those eyes, i want to know what you really feel like/

locked, caught. deer in the headlights, an owl in the road. he does not let me go. a sticky grin, wiped on a sleeve. roses, pressed. teeth, not as sharp as they can be.

he kisses up towards my nose and leaves a delicate print. a hand in my hair, smoothing the erratic curls. his eyes smile, brighter than the sun beams streaming through the window.

he lays his head on my chest, my arms wrap round him protectively.

/elio, don’t let me leave this bed. don’t let those arms fall to your sides, hold me for as long as you love me./

a kiss, soft and on the forehead.

/then we shall both die within this bed./

a void tucked beneath hollow bones,
your screams cannot be heard in space.
remember learning to ride a bike, remember the lorry so
high you had to be lifted in, remember the beanie-clad,
tongue poking out, arms folded over broad chest,
remember the violence, the threats, the complete
unattached glare, the silent mornings, the expressionless
skin, the pain, the crying, the untouched food, the want of
Guinness, the needles, the cold hard skin under my lips.

remember how small you looked in that box we had to
order again because of your **** long legs, the extra foot
of earth removed, how squashed you seemed yet how
peaceful compared to the agonies the previous months,
my cardigan nestled at your feet, the cherished items of
others tucked in with you, your cardigan i cant bring
myself to wear anymore, the almost smile playing on your
cold lips, sunken eyes, remember you’re not alive

remember the sobbing in a dismal church alive with jimi
hendrix, remember the family shrouded in black, remember
the gripped hands clutching at the desperate hope this was
some nightmare conjured up in the cruel unconscious of
one of us, remember the closeness of the funeral car as we
all shoved in together, remember the bent heads and the
pity pouring out of every poor soul in attendance,
remember the fierce love that connected us that has
dispersed over the last couple of years

remember how this family shattered when you left.

I don’t like hearing my own heart beat in my ears. It reminds me that I am real

and that these feelings rushing through my heart are real

that this pain is real and that it isn’t something I can escape.

Oh, to leave behind my heartbeat and forget my own existence. To be separate from this hurting within my veins, the screaming cells that throw themselves against the walls and ricochet. A howl in an empty hallway. Sorrow has replaced my blood and it is an empty void which I don’t believe can be filled, at least not permanently. For every time I begin to fill it I am torn away from those lips I crave and sent back into the company of myself. Company that I never did much like.

I don’t like hearing my own heart beat in my ears, for it reaffirms that I am indeed alive and that this pain does not leave.

we walked by an abominable summer,
leaves of envy, sharp blades grazing our legs,
unkempt, erratic, yet a new level of peace.

whilst the buttercups threw themselves against the wind,
revolting against a force they could not comprehend, our
fingers intertwined as palm graced palm.

rays beat our bare backs, no longer ghosts but so alive in
these fields. the lake, magnificent, reflected the work of
the sun.

lips met, smiles bounced off of one another. the trees
nodded in approval, or were trying to lean in to this
embrace. jealousy makes them green, ripened with envy as
i am when i hear of another slapping that grin onto your
face.

Shadows swaying,
Swift sliding hooves
That have stepped here before.

Creeping on creaking floors
That let slip the secret that you are not the only one awake, breathe.

A pause, a hesitation.
A stammer.

Shadows shriek against the cold moonlight, towering tall above paralysis in a bedsheet quaking under the black mass. An intruder.

No.

What was once theirs is no longer, but they will not settle without vengeance. They want it back. Now. Give it back. Selfish monster.

Can you not hear them weeping?
Most are deaf to the cries of the dying, not our problem they say. They scribble this out of manuscripts when revolution is at hand.

Why are you shivering, poor child? The dark is not one to fear but one to admire for no other force withstands the beams of the burning star quite as well as the shadows that you so hastily distance yourself from.

Retreat. Back another night. The child cries, you have survived this night. But soon the hooves will be heard, harsh raps against the wood, the creaking a shriek in the night. The moonlight won’t save you- why bother screaming?