She was the bottle that said "drink me"
And lifting up her dress I did just that.

The girl never believed in science.
When asked why apples fall
She answered darling, even apples fall in love.
So she baked an apple pie to make her feel grounded, rooted;
She wanted to be consumed like the sea engulfs the mountain in a storm,
Like a core is mounted by those thirsty for the taste of something left unwholly , vulnerability caressing the bitterness left by someone else's lips, traces of time browning their soft edges.

The girl used to lie outstretched on hilltops each night to watch the moon sweep away the stars each morning so the sun could still shine.
If she shut her eyes and opened her mind
She could hear the moon waning "she'll never be mine"
for the sky is a canvas of desire, a constellation of lust that looks different to every lover.
Their wish is the same regardless of the star: that gravity will soon become the real reason their hearts begin to sink each time they see her hand in another's.
every day the girl shuts her eyes to talk to the sky as if she still believes that's where God lives, as if that is where hope is, and whilst shes on her knees her lovers kiss rises amidst the heat of another girls thighs, synchronising moans as if she has finally found one to call home.
maybe she has, but now the girl can't help but think she may drown in this ocean that is empty without its pull to the crash, that her stolen heart is now her lovers buried treasure, buried so deep that shes forgotten she even had it at all.

The girl sits at the windows pane knowing why it got its name hoping she will some day navigate her way to the only star she sees, the only name she breathes.
If only leaves remembered where they fell from.
If only gravity was the reason she fell.

I spent my nights reading books in our greatest libraries
Searching for what it is I am still clinging on to,
Then after the final vowel I realised
The one thing I miss about you, is you.

You ask me to ***** in a light bulb
as if I'm planting seeds to let us grow
but rather than gardens and trees
it's light you want until you leave.

Candy canes made her lips wet, sweetened with the thought of trips to the seaside and her pleasure in pain

She told me I was her favourite cologne,
The kind you wear on special occasions.
Soon my glass began to wear thin
And I realised, you cannot own what I have from within.

I traced the crack in her smile
And spent the rest of my life trying to find ways
To fill her with laughter, love and fumbles beneath
Freshly washed sheets.

When she bent over to plant a kiss on parted lips
Her red hair fell and rested on my hips,
And as I prayed this moment would never stop
She whispered, "darling, I am the cherry on top".

The dolls house was an escape exist masquerading as child's play,
Emerald curtains open for all the neighbours to see.
Gentle, delicate, Miss China lays the table rather than in bed,
Spreads the table cloth rather than her legs.
The tea set lies daintily on the table for when he comes home
When her mother plants him a kiss in the garden to grow.
And watching the car park on the fading lawn
She wonders if window panes feel happiness at all.

I put on my dress and smooth the creases under my eyes.
It just falls right, falls right on the curves of my hips
And hides the shadows between this rib caged heart.
For that moment, it reminds me less of myself
And more of you.

There are empty pages that yearn for ink describing her loving caress.
There are empty beds that beg for the arch of her lower back.
I know which one I would rather fill.

This was a place I used to call home,
Now it is just a building with no name,
No touch of endearment on the doormat,
No letters of love but maybe they are lost in the post -
A name is just a word
But I have never heard my footsteps walk
These halls with an echo following
Like another ghost woven into the tapestries
Hanging on the walls,
Old photographs of memories that time
Turned into black and white,
The colours of an old life lost and forgotten
In this empty abyss the world has left behind.
My fingers trace the smile of a young girl
That I believe I used to be,
Innocence untouched by the man
She would fight to unsee.
This used to be home
And now my body is just a shell
I long to crack under my feet,
Feel the bough break
And look at the damage underneath
A disordered house is a disordered mind
But people don't see the fight thats inside
These walls that are shrinking to make me less space
So I can go to bed knowing, there is less I can waste.

She was a girl no one could understand.
Her body was her voice
And she was screaming for someone to hear
The unwept tears that were caged by that night,
When she learnt stillness after the storm
Was the earths brave face mourning
What was lost in the fight.

There is no such thing as a goodbye.
Nothing was good about the way her eyes changed colour,
How the street was drained into a black and white portrait
Capturing this one moment in time where she bit her lip
To remind her she was still alive
And turning her back she knew
That she'd never forget the promises she signed,
The ones she kept in her coat pocket
And the ones she left behind.

If only she heard the water falling from my eyes
She would realise I am no longer alive.
If only she knew her kiss planted between open hips
Will wither away in this dark abyss.
If only I asked him to loosen his grip
Then maybe I could breathe without
Gasping
             for  
                  her
                        lips.

You broke my heart
And still I gave a piece of it to you freely,
Leaving me like a jigsaw puzzle
No one could ever truly complete.

Petals drifted through our garden, and rested on her toes.
Sprigs of rosemary waltzed in the wind
and time captured the orange peel of her hair with perfection, a memory kept hidden in the pocket of my jeans.
The air had embraced indigo violets,
their scent imprinted on the collar of the breeze.
I get to my knees and hold the stalk of a forget-me-not,
And whisper she loves me,
She loves me not.

you tell me to let go-
you were my ocean
you were my storm.
to let go will surely drown me
so forgive me, I can't move on.

She wasn't the kind of girl to wear lipstick or paint the town red.
She would ask me to kiss her and bite her lip instead.

Alice sits beside the looking glass and touches her reflection
Breaking down beside the girl she cannot see is perfection.

Whispers and rings
you promise to bring,
that is what our love is made of.
Whips and wails
and back scratching nails,
that is what our lust is made of.

I don't want to be her background noise
Or the star she forgets to wish upon at night.
I don't want to be the frayed photograph
Left in draws to fad, left out of sight.
I will never be more than what I am
And what I fear is that is never enough.

She was an ordinary girl.
Plaits beside a waistline she drew on with ribbon,
Fastening her thoughts she'd sworn to keep hidden.

Behind closed doors she would loosen the noose
Man ******* before her,
And bind up her lover
The milkman's daughter.

There are times when I see her face in the moon,
And every time I see her there, I know she loves me too.

You have stolen the one thing I thought I never had left to give,
And the funny thing is it was yours to begin with.

You have no right to take away my foundations
And tell me to walk the plank of wood beneath my feet.

Her lover told her, "I am organic".
She peeled off her skin and saw her bare
And lying there she pressed into her
Like flowers left under books
Forgotten, fleeting moments
Captured in time.

She stood next to me in knickers and a t-shirt,
Needle and thread in hand with a grin between her legs.
"I will unstitch your heart" she said,
"And wear it on my sleeve so you never feel hurt again".

Scientists estimate that you will fall in love seven times before you get married.
That 42% of these marriages will end in divorce.
That lesbians get their sexuality from their fathers inability to
Maintain a platonic relationship with a woman
Pram pushing into bedrooms whilst our mothers clean
With wine stained pinafores and nicotine laced lips.
They remove their motherhood camise
And hang it on the banister one day after school,
Her fatal attraction to the bottle and mine to the silk touch of a woman’s fabric being the perfect childhood cliché for a
chronic homosexual.

My mothers is still there like a scare crow to heterosexuality,
warning off all my seven deadly loves that could have come from man but now come from the caress of a woman’s cheek but still,
I am afraid of wearing my heart on my sleeve
In case I shrink it in the wash so I place it in my rib cage
Captive to the beat of my own heart grieving.

You are my second love and according to science
I am therefore chasing something that cannot be caught,
Something that has an expiry date before I can even co-create this thing called love  

So when I sip seduction from your navel,
When I unwrap you like the present at Christmas I never got,
Untying the ribbon as I undo your jeans,
Just know the only I do I will say is when you ask me if I think you look pretty.
Or if I want a brew when we are lying in bed puffing smoke rings
Around our impending sighs that float over us like rainclouds,
Drips of fate falling from these skies dampening my desire.

So forgive me if the only aisle I will see you up is the biscuit aisle, Pulling the fabric of my non-wedding dress around my slipping tights.
Forgive me if I trade in the sweat on your neck
For the salt side of a tequila
As sometimes I like to use the wool from over my eyes to knit me telescope so I can look at the stars between your thighs,
But what no one ever tells you is that when you wish upon a star,
That star has surely died.
  
Because I want to fall in and out of love 7 times.
Correction: I want to fall in and out of love with you 7 times.
I want to press you, not in a book, but against me.
Imprint the lines of your fingertips on my ******* like maps of Atlantis because I want to go places with you I never knew existed.
I want your nails engraved on my back like constellations of stars
So I can always find my way back to now. To then.
The present. The past. That very moment where Greenwich meantime got it wrong:
Those seconds were longer than any before,
And my life has been full of seconds.
Second child. Second best. Second chances. Second love.
The third the forth, the fifth the sixth but the 7th, the 7th time you tell me is no longer reserved for you.

You tell me the 7th time is for me to fall inexplicably, uncontrollably in love with myself.
So when I walk myself up a different kind of aisle I can do it with you by my side.
And I’ll stand there, lifting the veil from over my eyes and I will tell you, Darling, second love, science is colourblind.
It doesn’t see the colours of the rainbow like I do.

Because yes, I do.

Will you be there when the sun paints a canvas of green?
Envelopes of colour closing in around my body,
A forgotten art form.A broken sculpture.
Wrap me up in a blanket of cellophane
And eat me like an evergreen bathes in gold.
Your seasonal fruit between bitten lips red
But when the leaves envy dances into passion
I wonder if we will be there to see it change.

Do not run from the sun, the bluebird said,
Your feet will unravel, leaving nothing but thread.

Then lend me your wings , she said in reply,
And we'll fly to a place where the shadows don't lie.

Turn me over like your favourite novel.
Run your fingers along my spine.
Bite your lip at your favourite parts
Then read between my lines.