these days i feel like water. like an ocean cusping on the marked line of a horizon. like a droplet riveting and rolling, making its way down to pool onto a ledge.

the slightest nudge, a gentle push
and i'd spill over.

sitting dangerously on the lip of the cup
teetering in and out of balance-

it is a game of give or take

i bend myself backwards into a crescent
just to make room for their full mooned selves

i wonder how Neil Armstrong felt
when he took his first step onto the dusty crater ridden plain
and found himself

all
alone

i am

                                                   alone

destined to listlessly twirl around my own axis dreamlike
but not like a dream at all
floating miles away from the person i have yet to unearth
but yet not far enough to fly among the stars

i am held by the centre of my own gravity

is that why sometimes i can hear my bones creak under the weight of the person i was supposed to be?

you were a fever pitch of a dream
my lips pressed flushed to your edges
searing and splitting my seams open

grief trickled out

a steady stream of
red sticky warm
tasting just like sugar if i run my tongue
along the right corner

breath bated
teeth parted

                                                                                                          pregnant.
                    
                                                                                                                pause.

it threatens to escape
an unwarranted sigh
snaking its way through my cracks
reaching to close the space between us

if i breathe it into existence
it will change everything.

inhale, exhale
brace for impact.

reckless with abandon
the wind sweeps our caution away
gently, at first, then somehow all at once

if i said
'i love you'
would it be a fact or weapon?

you rose up from the murky depths
breaking the surface of stilled waters
disturbing tranquil oceans and calm seas

at first, a gentle ripple-

rolling roiling reeling
collecting bones of sunken ships
pulling pieces of dredged up memories
along your wake of destruction

you turn yourself inside out
over
          and over
                          and over

into crested waves
crashing into my sandy banks

darling,
wash away all my self control
and resistance built up over pent
disappointments and picketed frustrations

the past engulfs me;
heat of your skin pressed against mine
lips pursed in anticipation
of the last time you said you loved me

love,
flood my lungs
for i think i'm running out of air
to breathe into this mirage.

once a month
when you see the moon
basking in the glow of her lunar lunacy

her belly filled to the brim with stardust
hauling the drunken songs of sailors
to her like a tide

i hope you think of me.

you have
such a hold on me
tight gripped choke like a
lump that's settled and
made a home in my throat
that i can't swallow down.

wounds winding the
drawstrings of my heart
closed shut. sharp tongued
words twisted right into my
tight lipped barnacled edge
trying to pry me open.
cracked ajar salt water flushes
flooding nicked skin bled red
into soft pink flesh tip me
over slid out of shell and
swallow me whole. tell me the
last time someone left a sweet taste in your mouth
and i will eat the clock.

like a star
the girl shines
plastic packaging removed
double-a batteries inserted
and with a flick of a switch

she lights up
beaming twinkling
amidst a galaxy of stars
that look just like her
that smile just like her
that behave just like her

she is held together by her own gravity
set forever to whirl and twirl and swirl
about her own little axis

dancing prancing
for the sentinels
for the solar systems
for the universe

like a star
the girl dies
inwards not out
crumbling crumpling
from the weight of empty mascara bottles lipstick tubes-face paint
to the weightlessness of her own self

There is always pain in her. 
Between her bones and skin;
separate from her blood. 

She has only known 
how to cast everything out
from the dinners she's barely keeping down
to the "are you alright"s and "are you eating properly"s

She is so used to 
never keeping anything for herself 
never holding onto to something she can call her own,
long enough for her to know

how to cherish, how to treasure, how to love. 

She is smothered and mothered and suffocated
by the numbers that rise and fall, push and pull
engulfing overwhelming drowning
all that she is. 

less is more/ less is more/ less is more

The girl's self worth is 
inversely proportional to 
how much of her 
there is in this world. 

That is why she must
refuse refute reject 
until she becomes so much closer to nothing 
until there is none of her left. 

Until she fades out of existence. 
Slowly, quietly but surely-
a decrescendo to her swan song

"The world will end with not a bang, but a whimper"

Instant gratification
for an instance of a girl.