Under streetlights in the suburbs,
Your eyes are illuminated by the moonlight
And you lean me up against the whitewashed wall
In the hazy temperature of an August midnight.
Closed eyed and open hearted,
The hour slows in time to savour youth
And our shadows entwine like the ivy beside us.
When my cheeks are flushed to coral
And your eyes shine like snapdragons,
You toss me your grass-stained tshirt
As I twirl an ivy leaf between my fingers.

I remember rolling hills and the thrumming bass,
Strung up fairy lights to guide me and you,
As we learned to navigate our way to the coastline,
With a lingering touch of fingers and faces.
Alone together and blanketed by the coarse night air,
You took me through the heather and the salty breeze,
And I could see your eyes on the abrupt cliff,
They saw me like I had never been seen before.
Catches of breaths and a hurried manner,
I felt the low temperature rise around us,
You won me over amongst the dew drops and four-leaved clovers.

I settle once again,
For the boy I made up in my mind:
Blonde hair and blue eyes,
California sand and Cornwall sea.
An artist, a photographer, an explorer,
You will take me to places I haven’t been before.
A joke paired with an absentminded touch of my thigh,
Under the silver light of twilight and violet light of dusk
On the hill overlooking this city,
Aren’t you everything I want you to be?
But when you grab my hand and I lose my train of thought,
Or when our bodies meet in the darkened hallway,
When we laugh until I forget the joke -
Why don’t I want you?
We wanted each other to be what we are not and
You aren’t who I made you up to be and,
As you walk down my road, I’m not sad to see you go.

Maybe you thought that if you touched me
You would change me into something that you owned
Or you would change yourself into the man you are not.
You thought I would be a bouquet in your arms,
Compliant, pleasing, with the scent of hyacinths and lilacs drifting off my skin,
To complement you as the king of the kingdom that is my body.
But my body is not a garden with flowers for you to pick,
Unwelcomed.
I won’t let you run your hands through the forget-me-nots of my hair,
Across the roses of my hips,
Ghosting across the stalks of lilies over my back.
You didn’t ask, and so you thought you had conquered my land.
But I am the queen of this forest.
And I don’t want you to be my king.

I want to get beneath my skin.
I want to dig under my nails,
Tear at the roots of my hair,
Claw at the soles of my hands and feet.
I want to find the words I can't express,
The feelings that sit in my stomach
That I just can't seem to throw up.
They lie just behind my fingertips,
Just behind my mouth,
At the precipice of recognition.
I just can't seem to throw them up.