It started at the beginning of adulthood
where the wandering into the new house
became a chore. The doorway greeted me
by snagging my woollen jumper.
The motorway was screaming, the battered gate happily hanging from its hinges.

His image first flashed into my sight,
And when I stared through the fogged up windows
I could still figure out his figure.
Loutish, he sauntered past
On a hillside, desolate.

He didn’t move for three hours.
He was most probably entwining the thorns from the bush
into his complex mind. Maybe
the boy with the thorn in his side
Had been brought to life by this mystery animal
With a mass of unkempt mane.
Unruly, unnecessary, untouched.

The notebook on my kitchen table lay untidily
waiting to be roughened up. I picked it up
and cast light over the paper.
I imagined him doing the same
But his art was thunderstorms
And mine merely a drizzle of rain.

I made progress
and the flowers were growing from my fountain pen.
Confidence developing, I invited him inside
And there were still no words from his unfathomable jaw.

A month later, we became one
and I still didn’t know where his intentions were lying.
I’m a girl afraid, does he even have any?

Ink *** after ink ***
I ran even further in this marathon of confusion.
I slowly slid from his dismissive grasp, his matted paws light
I had drawn graffiti over his portrait.
a permanent marker changed beauty into art.

I crept before his wake, into his sleep
And his lyricism lay imbibed in the walls, the desk, the door.
I felt the gale force energy cry inside
Which erupted like a volcano, turning remnants into ashes.
Face down, mane rough, scars bright, fur singed
Interior managed.

In the morning, I lifted his heavy paw away from me
And placed it peacefully beside him.

Holidays are a time for relaxing
for enjoyment
for peace, tranquil and serenity

she sat on the beach
an Italian ice cream cone in her hand
and the light breeze ruffling her long hair
drawing patterns with her delicate fingers in the soft sand.

This heaven of a place
made all the diabolic feelings go, vanish
into a state of oblivion
for a duration.

She cried her remaining tears into the sea
all the scandalous thoughts physically floating
poisoning the sparkling blue water.

Her debilitating emotions
were soon to be washed up on somebody else's shore.
Possibly.

Possibly to pour down as rain
over her own hometown
her own house
her own life

again.

Someone once told me
to mend a broken person
breaks the mender them self

I tried to rearrange their broken heart
But as I reassembled it
The shards of glass sunk into my skin
As if it was heavily pored.

My emotions fell down like hail
on a harsh winter's day. However
I felt the rain wash over me
Sending chills through my heart
Soaking me for all eternity

No one gave me a towel
To dab away the imbibed feelings
of everything, from love to hate
to lust and lies

Someone once told me
To mend a broken person
Breaks the mender them self

I had many dreams.
my voice was too big for anyone to happily endure
and my heart too sad to persist.

One of my teachers told me I was talented
bright, special, full of potential.
When I got home that day,
I changed clothes, and
thunder from my thighs clapped as I sat down.

I would text him all day and night
even in a sleep deprived state.
The only thing on my mind was about my heavily outlined body
like someone had coloured it in with dark permanent marker pen
which could never be erased.

We'd walk together
and it probably seemed as if he was handling a blown up balloon down the path.
I thought of all the internal laughs people would suppress
why someone of his beauty would be with someone as ill-favoured as myself.

He would show me photos of another girl.
She was beautiful.
I could only think of the invasion of infatuation he would have for her
and I would be thrown into a landfill,
unwanted.

Shopping with your best friend
is supposed to be fun, right?
I tried on the same clothes as her;
I looked like a stubbed toe
that needed to be bandaged up forever.
She looked like a perfectly manicured finger
faultlessly shaped to fit
the glove of society.

My favourite people cradled me as I internally sobbed.
I felt like a novelty.

Loving a fat person is *not a ******* novelty.

I'm dying in this house
this room is filled with laughing gas
yet I'm filled with carbon monoxide
bolting through my body
flying through my fibres.
The toxicity settles beneath my skin
the key is lost.

I touched his blurred face, a poorly painted portrait
and his substance melted in the tips of my tired fingers
and fell through like liquid
soaking me with his being. He washes my face away
and become two conjoined clouds.
Sunrise clears the haze over the horizon.
Mistaken again. I'm losing it
my best friend.

The barriers closed around the prison of thought
yet lust, loss and lies creep in through the slits and cracks.
I sit on my burnt bed
and wonder what could have been if there had been no obstacle?
fire cries from my eyes, and
sand sighs through my lungs.
I still felt the poisoned water ingested in my skin.

I remember the time, when we first met
our eyes locked
both so intertwined with desire
wondering what could happen

I remember the time, when we had a conversation
the depth was like a bottomless ocean
falling into the trench that lied deep within us
both mutually zealous

I remember the time, when I gazed into your eyes
stars danced instead of your pupils
your universe formed so perfectly
freely fabricating constellations

I remember the time, we first drank alcohol together
both intoxicated out of our minds
truth spilled out without a worry
like an overflowing glass of water

I remember the time, that I found out
you had met another
her golden hair glittering in the breeze
whilst my own limp brown fringe drooped like a dehydrated flower
over my melancholy eyes

I remember the time, I walked alone
the grey clouds matching my grey thoughts
as I looked across the reservoir, so still and untouched
wondering if the stone I just dropped into the water
would create a ripple: a change, a conversion in your head
about me again.

I remember all the times.

All this poetry I write
is here for a reason.

I am feeling rather nostalgic tonight
my room is clammy and hot
whilst on the inside, I'm in a freezer
unable to move from the isolation

I am currently listening to a song
it is singing me to sleep
and singing all my consciences
without me having to think too much
philosophising everything

I'm tired of being here
alone all the time, and
I can't carry on being second best
even third, fourth and so on
like a never ending cycle

the term 'wallflower' is so perfectly beautified
and evokes imagery of aesthetically-pleasing nature
but I find this so hard to believe
as I feel like a wallflower
but certainly the opposite of beautiful
more like the uninviting sight of a prickly ****
needing to be dug up
because nobody likes its presence

irrelevance is probably the only term I can use to describe
just how things are
no one wants the companionship of someone
who perceives others' opinions as negative
all the time
and their own thoughts are just as diabolic

the thought of myself
ever being denoted as beautiful
is at the height of impossibility

I can feel you,
I can feel you right here next to me
as my hand sighs though the air
and flops onto my bed.

You're my blood,
you're flying through my body
you're sending impulses
through my head, and my heart.

It's 1:01 AM
and I am tired for lack of life
I miss you, and I am sorry.
I'm so in love with you.
I need you.

my bedside lamp flickers as your ghost flickers from sight
my eyes flutter shut as I realise you're no longer there
my right hand closes around my left,
because yours doesn't have a vacancy.

I keep losing my mind in the music,
because reality is too much, too wrong, too real.

I want you,
to love me to bits
but I'm in more pieces than a jigsaw puzzle already. I need you
to rearrange my mind
but I remain a jumble on the carpet
in front of a roaring fire
singeing me further.

I feel very confused
and very alone
but what can I do
apart from stay at home
and nit pick my problems
into something far more monstrous
when really, they're not
and it makes me self conscious
in all respects
physically and emotionally
and it arises a desire to neglect
all the important things around me
and just stay in my room
the four walls staring at me blankly
my duvet wrapped around me as a cocoon
a bubble, preventing positivity

Don't tell me
that I'm beautiful
because beautiful people
don't sit in their rooms every night
wondering if anyone cares about them

Don't tell me
that I have pretty eyes
because all I use them for is crying
the bloodshot red overcomes the blue-grey
and shows the weakness

Don't tell me
that I'm not fat
because when I look in the mirror
all I see is my flabby body
and the abhorrent imperfections

Don't tell me
that my scarred skin is fine
because all I see are flaws in my growth
and stretch marks are the reason
for my tiresome adolescence

Don't tell me
that people love me
because loved people don't stand in the corner at parties
wanting it to all be over
because they aren't good enough

Don't tell me
that I am lovely
because lovely people
don't push the ones that mean the most to them
onto a boat, out to sea

I think it's funny
how you string me along
thinking I believe everything that flows out of your mouth
which just silently screams falseness

I think it's funny
how you think you can pick me up and drop me again
like a child being reckless with a toy
not realising its true worth

I think it's funny
how you think your lies are disguised as promises
and you think I won't see behind the mask
of your priorities

I think it's funny
how you claim to be friends with me
but really, others are more appealing to you
whilst I'm just a ghost in your background

I think it's funny
how you tug little pieces of my heart away
because I believed you were my friend
but you do not care about my heartstrings snapping

I think it's funny
how your little stabs of supposed superiority
are reflected in the pinpricks which you force into my back
which deflated all my confidence and self worth

I think it is very unfunny
how all of these pointless metaphors
are what I feel our friendship finally became

Run the shower
I need to wash off the memories

your touch still imbibed in my skin
from your embrace
your gentle caress
your beautiful scent

I'm so in love with you
but you're the forbidden fruit
that I cannot possess

I wish you could guide me in the darkness
to the light at the end
but I will stay inside this cave

I wish you could stop running marathons
in my head
and come back beside me instead

whilst I've been planting trees
you set alight to my forest

you've been travelling my world
whilst I've been locked away

run the shower
because I need to wash away your ghost

I hate how
Every now and then
You remind me you're there
without me. Do you know
how hard, how impacting
your metaphorical slap was?
Your hand print still daubed on my skin
the only part of you that remains.
You faded away, in my mind,
for a while. But
every now and then
when that song plays
your image is mangled in the melody
fighting to escape my awfully messed up mind
and your presence in the lyrics
harms the harmonies.
When the morning comes
we go our separate ways
but you're still pacing round my mind
with nothing else to do
no one else to see
I realise I'm just lonely.

When flowers sense the sunlight
their head turns in that direction
to absorb all the energy in the world

I, for one
Cannot turn flowers heads
More weeds grasp my appeal

I don't know what I am. Maybe
the moon, which only knows at night
how it really feels

But I guess, sometimes
The weeds staring in my direction
are flowers deep in their roots

Masked by their prickly exterior
Nobody seem to realise
Their insides matter

your hands will someday melt the sky
and it will drip through your soul
and at this time you will realise
your power to align your own stars.
then the substance will set
and your soul will be satisfied

and you will see the motion of light past your window
in pitch black
and remember how stars shone from eyes, for you

i sit near the sea, sunset, alone
the ripples remind me of time to come
love to continue
as it waits patiently for feet to feel the wave.
salt embeds into the soles,
a mineral to strengthen.

whirlwinds interrupt daily rest
that are created elsewhere
and fall into minds of lovers
who sleep alone

you'll thrive
and i'll dive
yet survive
and float to the surface
to meet you

wake up on a Sunday morning
have ***
pour the freshly brewed coffee
drink it
make love
take a shower together
kiss each other ravenously
get dressed, I dry my hair
your curls drip past your eyes
have ***
avocado and eggs on toast
jazz music breezing through the speakers
**** each other
take a walk downtown
hold my hand
more coffee. takeaway mocha
arm round my shoulder, caress my hair
laughter
cigarettes in the garden
go inside, make love
stroke my frightened rescue cat
kiss
get in the car, go to the train station
embrace
goodbye?
anxious silence.