It's 11pm and
I still haven't eaten yet,
been drinking
alcohol and coffee
to fill my stomach.
Maybe you'll love me better
if I was prettier, skinnier,
if I just wasn't me.
Your name is in the bottom
of every bottle, your lips
are stained where my mouth
falls on this cup of coffee,
and your breath is falling
out of my cigarettes and
into my mouth.

You remind me
of summer,
and every cigarette
I light,
holds your breath
in between my teeth.
Your body holds planets
I thought I couldn't reach
and your eyes contain
thousands of stars.
And every time I touch you,
I feel the galaxy
underneath
your skin.

I don't know how to
not **** everything up,
I don't know how to change
my ways,
and I don't know why I'm
such a terrible person.
Someone tell me how to
get rid of my anxiety
so I can talk to people.
Someone tell me how to
be a better person,
because I'm tired of always
being wrong.

I'm tired
of missing you
when you're
right next to
me.

I think I realised
I was in too deep
as my eyes closed
when you fell asleep,

as my eyes closed
when you fell asleep
and what I saw
was the back of
your eyelids, not mine.

The back of your eyelids
and the beat of your heart,
the touch of your hand
and the rhythm of your words.

The touch of your hand
and the rhythm of your words,
against my chest and
falling out of my mouth.

Against my chest and
falling out of my mouth,
your words behind my tongue,
your breath in my lungs.

I think I realised
I was in too deep,
as my eyes closed
when you fell asleep.

I can hear a clock ticking somewhere in the back of my mind and I can't reach in far enough to take the batteries out, and that's when I realised it had stolen mine and I can't remember how to work, how to breathe, how to be and you're laying next to me but wait you're not or maybe I'm mistaking the fact that I'm mistaken or god I must be daydreaming of your lips against mine and it's only half past five in the afternoon and I'm sitting here in the middle of uni trying to think of how to say your name without it taking a hold of my throat and scraping down my lungs and choking me half to death and I'm wondering how to touch you or let you touch me without setting myself on fire and I'm trying to remember where all the stars have gone and then I looked into your eyes and found them and then you opened your mouth and more came spilling out and I'm trying to concentrate on what your hand feels like in mine but I'm also concentrating on how your bones feel underneath my fingertips, your collarbones, hipbones, your bones that I once only thought of as part of the human body but now it feels different when I'm touching yours and now I'm thinking about the way your fingernails dig into my back I guess you could say you use it as a canvas and as long as you're the only one making art on this strange substitute of a canvas then I'm okay with that, as long as your name stops choking me and my lungs stop being raw from your name and from trying to scrape out the taste of another's breath when he kissed me at a party you weren't at and I threw up afterwards because I only wanted your lips, not his and I hope you know that I love you and I hope you love me too, and I can hear footsteps coming and all I can think of is you and I hope they are yours but I know they aren't because you're not down today I don't think but I'm still hoping and I wish you had come today and I've lost myself in thoughts of you, and oh god I think I'm in far too deep.

Maybe one day,
I'll wake up and not hate
myself, and breathing will
come naturally like it does
to everyone else.
I've never really understood
how people around me can
breathe with no effort,
but it takes half the muscles
in my body just to take
one ******* breath,
I guess I'm just unlucky.

I saw you fall asleep
amidst a garden of stars,
underneath a moon
that if I looked closer,
would realise was just
as bright as your eyes,
and I found my favourite
constellation running
across your collarbones
and down along your chest,
and somewhere in between
all of that,
it collided with planets
that would never have
looked so beautiful
if I had seen them on someone else.
When I looked at you,
I found myself wondering
how a person could look
like that,
like they were the galaxy,
a galaxy so pretty that
for a moment,
the air left my lungs.

These notes were once
all addressed to you because
I always tried to
begin a sentence with something other than your name,
but my hands
only know how to write
about you.

You are nothing but
silent death, your blood
drenched upon broken
flowers, your eyes blacker
than the night and your
arms a picture of a war.

light a match
and
watch it
kiss me down.

He didn't love me
but he ****** me,
tried to leave his mark on my neck
and now every time I smoke
I can smell it on his breath.
I can feel his fingernails scraping
down
my
back
when he turns around, says I'm nothing more
than a pretty *****,
and laughs.

I'm not yours anymore,
pushed you away because I didn't feel worthy of your love but
my heart still skip beats like when
you miss a step on the stairs,
or you're driving too fast and
go over a bump in the road.
My fingers still fit in between the
spaces of yours, like thread
fits through the space in the needle.
My tongue still knows the way
your name rolls off it, as
easily as if I were saying my own.
My mind still takes me on a
rollercoaster of thoughts that
are made up of every image we
have, like when you look at a
photo album where, in every picture,
you're smiling with eyes full of love.
My lungs are full of your breath
when I open my mouth, like they
usually should be full of your own breath.
My lips don't close around the traces
of yours when I light up a cigarette,
but God I wish they did.
My waist is untouched, but your arms
used to wrap themselves around it.
I know I still love you, like when you
see old couples still together and in
love from years ago.
I know I would love to have the courage to tell you that
this was all a mistake, you're the only one for me,
we've intertwined ourselves so greatly that
I am you and you are me,
now you're gone, I can't breathe.
I know our names still cross the others mind
I know our hearts still hold a place for
each other, like reserving a table for two, for forever.

I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.

You painted
a sunset in the back of my
throat, so that every time
we kissed, you could taste
something beautiful that
wasn't me.

you gave me
a bullet and a gun
in the form of
a love letter

Do you
miss me when
you hear my name?
Does it
hurt when you
fall asleep now,
with
nothing but
your cold bed?
Does it hurt
when you see
me around?
Does it hurt
now you know
you'll never
see me again?
Do you
miss me when
you hear my name?

Six months ago I was a ******* mess,
my lungs ran out of air,
I couldn't breathe, let alone sleep
and I regretted not listening
to my therapist,
when she told me
"don't fall in love."

And baby,
your hand in mine
is enough to warm me,
your kiss is what sets
this paper heart
alight.

I'll hold you
til you fall
asleep.

If I looked you
in the eyes,
I would see
the end of everything
we ever had.

If I heard your
words, I would
hear the start
of a war.

If I put a gun in
my mouth, all I
would taste is
your name.

You have holes
in your sheets
from your last
lover.

I wonder
if my body is mine,
I mean,
if it breaks
will it **** me
or will it **** you?

Love me with
your words, your
body, love me
with your smile.
Take my hand and
don't let go.
Why can't you
love me?

I think
you're still burning
in my lungs.
I think
your hands are
still
tracing my skin.
And I don't think
you are ever
coming
back.

Sadness runs through my veins
paranoia creeping up my spine
my body feels heavy
mind is a maze of darkness
It comes in waves, endless waves
There's no mercy at the hands of depression

Do you even
miss me
at all?
You're in the
spaces between
my bed
and the wall,
but
do you even
miss me
at all?

You couldn't
love me better
but
you couldn't
love me worse.

You are making earthquakes
with your hands, destroying
mountains, building cities
from my spine and crushing
them with hurricanes that
fall from your mouth.
Your body is the tornado
whirling through my door
at 3am on a Thursday morning.

you can't start a fire with nothing to burn.

It's 2am and
I can't sleep.
Maybe it's because
this is the first night
in months
that we haven't slept
in each others arms
and honestly,
I don't know how to sleep
anymore
if you're not holding me,
if your lips aren't staining
my face,
my neck,
if your fingers aren't tracing
patterns on my chest,
if our bodies are not
entangled and our hands
intertwined,
like vines spiralling up the
side of an abandoned house,
caught up in each other
like lovers that lay
side by side,
each one dreaming
with the others eyes.

you are like
broken spines and
bad nights.

Even the rain doesn't fall
in the places you have touched me.

he is the gun in my mouth he is the flames in my hands he is the pills on my tongue he is the smoke in my lungs he is the alcohol falling down my throat he is the sin I didn't want to make.

I dreamed of
your lips against
mine again
last night, I
dreamed of the
way your hands
trace the outlines of
my body and your
teeth scrape the
side of my neck.
I felt myself
falling asleep
in your arms
even though you weren’t
there.

Dawn is blazing
the world is still
this is
the time before times.
Watch the sun kiss
the moon goodbye.

First drops of sunlight
that shines across your body,
where you lay asleep on
your side of the dishevelled bed.
This coffee tastes
as bitter as you were last night
but this cigarette smoke tastes like
the one we shared at
3am this morning.
The alcohol seeping
through my veins
reminds me of how you
infected me with your poison
when we first met.
Your name is on the tip of my tongue
and your breath is caught in the middle of my lungs
just like it was four hours ago
when your body was on top of mine
and you were burning me with your touch
Your scent still hangs around me
in a cloud of ****,
lynx
and ***.
And the ghost of your hand in mine seems almost real
that I forget you are no longer holding it.
Your kiss still lingers on my lips
like the teeth marks you left on my neck
and the scratches down my back.
Your words still ring in my ears
and my memory decides to play me a slideshow
of every image I have of you -
this will be a long night, yet it is barely even mid day.
The air is cold, colder than you
and you don't hold me anymore.
Every breathe I take will not be
because of you,
every cigarette will not have
the trace of your lips,
yet my body will still remain with
the touch of your fingertips,
a maze of marks and bruises,
a labyrinth of complications
and desires.

If we could be honest about motherhood
how many mothers would tell you
they were made one well before their time?
How many would tell you that postpartum depression doesn't have an expiry date?

My children,
they were not born from kindness
they were not born from loving men,
instead
trapped in a maze of lies and fear
six feet deep and 8 years long
it may have ended but
how long will it take to fade from my mind?

my children
are my world-
metaphorically and literally,
my days a repetition of the ones before and
I am overwhelmed, overstimulated,
alone, alone.
But these thoughts are not made to be heard
so I'll put a smile on my face
and pretend that everything is fine.

I'll be forever
lost,
drifting
in a sea of stars.

You haven't yet
figure out
how
to love me
so
I trace the patterns
of your heartbeats
when
you think
I
can't hear it,
and I whisper
words that
you'll
never hear
when I
think
you aren't
listening.

Childhood,
Father's always angry
mother's always drinking
hurricanes ripping through our kitchen
hurling raised voices down the hallway
walk on eggshells,
tread softly now
watch what you say, don't forget to
think before you speak,
don't say the wrong thing
don't be the wrong thing
Never forget to look for the warning signs
don't leave your fear upstairs.
my brother and sister,
they made you proud, good grades
happy minds (is a happy mind the key to parents love?)
pretend I don't exist, it's funny
how invisible you can become.
saw a fist go through a canvas once,destroy the painting
Everything is always being ripped apart around here,
excuse me while I hide,
I won't speak of this
It'll become another memory blocked out
hidden inside my brain.

Oh god
I miss you
so much.

Do you
miss me when
you hear my name?

I'm tired of
feeling like this,
like his hands
against my body
are better than
anyone else's
ever have been.

The moon cascaded on to your skin,
shining lights brighter than the northern ones into your eyes,
taking pictures of the sun
and planting them behind your eyelids,
capturing colours from the galaxy and rainbows
and painting them in the back of your throat.
You're like the fire I used to set in my hands when I couldn't breathe,
except this time it's because
you resemble the flames dancing in my hands,
and you feel like home when
your hands close around mine
and your arms wrap around my waist,
and I love you like I love the sunrise,
and cigarettes,
which altogether is a ******* lot,
and coffee tastes like your breath
when you leave for uni and I'm still in bed,
and sometimes when you're gone I wear your hoodies which are oversized on me,
but I like it because it feels like you're wrapping yourself around me.

You are small
notes on
worn paper,
"don't eat that,
you'll hate yourself
later."

I think I heard the sound
of every rainbow falling down,
collapsing into your veins,
capturing your smile and
painting colours in the
back of your throat.

I saw each and every colour,
exploding from your body,
I think I saw the sun rise
in your eyes,
I think I tasted the rainbow
in your kiss.

It painted colours in your lungs
and left its mark on your breath.
This is the closest I have ever got
to seeing colours,
let alone tasting them on the
tip of your tongue.

The sun wakes after I have walked two hours just to trace the outline of your body.
My arms have purple fingerprints from all the times you grabbed me when I walked into your ghost.
A thousand suns used to fall from the tips of my fingers into your outstretched hands.
You would kiss me just to catch the cigarette smoke unfurling out of my mouth.
We used to play last card beneath a candle light and sitting in forts.
The colours of a hundred sun sets fell from your mouth when you looked at me.
Rainbows had formed in the back of your throat where you thought no one could find them, but I tasted them when your lips met mine.
My eyes have dark rings under them from all the sleepless nights you caused me.
You carved a hole in my chest and never replaced it.
You held me so tight all of my bones broke and every crack had your name inside.

The sun woke this morning and I wasn't tracing the outlines of your body.
I wasn't speaking volumes because your lips weren't touching mine, and that's the only time I feel safe enough to write a novel.
The sun rose and I was waist deep in the water, trying not to think about your face.
But the water made waves that carried your name right to me.

How to act okay when I'm not,
how to smile like I mean it when I don't,
how to laugh like it isn't fake,
how to live when I want to die,
how to sleep and then still wake up.

The water kissed
the edges of the beach,
and the moon kissed
the sun goodnight,
but you never even
managed to kiss me
goodbye.

I don't think anyone has ever looked at me
like you do, before.