My boyfriend has two cardigans
Exactly the same softness, dark grey, cold zip and asymmetric cut
I'm wearing one, my legs curled beneath the other
Frustratingly cold on the sofa when the stagnant bedroom air was near suffocating moments before
My eyes are heavy, tired, blurry with sleep, alert thanks to anxiety
Brain on a loop of words and feelings and fears
Mostly desperation to not disturb his sleep and a break in the summer heat
I'm beginning to see the beauty of an unassuming monotony, complete lack of remark or incredulity, the repetitive sameness of minutes, days, weeks. Corners of gold in sunlit brick. Echoes of dreams in the creases of bed linen. Sumptuous, biteable plumpness of the aloe on the window sill. Water moves differently. Cold has a taste. The numbness ebbs away from senses - sight, taste, smell, imagination slowly filling with renewed insight as the world around remains exactly the same.
Take a pretty word and spin a lengthy verse
A thesaurus for breakfast and linguist for lunch
By dinner you'll be satiated and spitting lyrically of hunger and fullness
the branches of their wilting leaves
much like I shed
my insecurities at twilight.
Rebirth is but a season away,
growth is inevitable.
Appreciate your blossom
as you take in
your renewed form,
in the sunlight of a new day.
Eva Cassidy's lessons are silken butterscotch
revisiting the words I write on heart-weary days,
I can taste the emotional exhaustion
in its metallic meloncholy
and a slight bitterness at the shadow
they leave on my soul
when sweet words of brighter days
are far harder to wrap my tongue around
in ways that echo through my chest ever after
She deserved it.
Everyone agrees with me.
The signals mixing with the cocktails
and I don't even know what time it is.
She had it coming.
Her parents told her so.
I was acting like any guy would. Should.
Skin taunting. Hips hypnotising me with
That rhythmic pulsing
She wanted it.
How was I supposed to know
when she bit her
lip that way, flirted that
way, smiled that
She did it to herself.
It's not my fault.
That's the way things are, right?
Writing prompt: you are the villain, but unaware of it.
Paint you words on my lips
Etch your heart on my flesh
Brand my soul to yours
Together we'll fly higher
today the pain is not in breaking
that would suggest some fantastic noise
or cavernous fracture
today is subtle, barely visible to the naked eye
it's a quiet decay
unremarkable in its erasure of humanity
and that emptiness becomes a new kind of identity
this is all that remains
Tingles ripple slowly along my spine
Breath wraps around my neck
Fingers trail down my sternum
Need coarses through my veins
Touches between my thighs
Kisses planted across my chest
Delights whispered in my ear
Tongue explores my mouth
Circles drawn on my sensitive flesh
Stars explode behind my eyelids
Arms hold my limp body
She makes me beautiful
I've spent the night concocting fake letters to my therapist as a concept for an art project. A coquettish ploy for validation, vindication without unloading the heaviest loads.
My fear the depression is back, or never really left. The agony of watching my Love crumble at the hands of his own brain and his apathetic complicity in his brain's self-destruction. And by the way, I'm gay. Have a nice holiday.
Some email. But much easiest than over the phone. No pauses, breaths, hedges, deflect. Fear of rejection runs deep, core to my design. The draft sits silently, relegated to the bin.
So much work. So much weight. Here's hoping my foundations hold until he's back.
Jumbled heart and tied tongue-
the fog does more than cloud my eyes.
Judgement, the way out, none of it is clear.
But still I stumble on
angsty and antsy. unnamed emotions are clawing at my throat and i don't know which way is up anymore. everything's fuzzy and i feel myself slipping but my feet are cemented to the floor.
Drowned by your breath on my neck.
Soaked in your intention.
Lapping up every whisper of promise.
Drunk on you
I am an empty well with nothing left to give but the frayed, overused rope and a bucket full of holes.
No water left to quench your thirst but my tears my wet your cheek, cool your skin, soak you to the bone. I am a forced metaphor.
Recycled. Chipped away at the corners to fit my new mold. I am empty. I have nothing left to give.
It's so impossibly hard to capture fleeting moments of anguish in words that truly embody the experience. In that second stretching for on for days, there is no escape, no end, no hope. Such a hopelessness is intensely lonely and creates a terror that passes through muscles so concretely the electrical current sparks fuzzy on my teeth, freezing my jaw.
And when that moment ends, seconds to days later, such a feeling is still so impossibly hard to capture that I doubt memory and weary body alike. The exhaustion has no tangible cause. Nothing ties my lingering reactions to their root any longer. The synapses decay.
These words become all I have.
Reading into it too much.
Seeing things that aren't there.
Replaying interactions for intimate dissection.
Praying that wasn't the wrong thing to say.
Wishing the words would stop.
Hoping the silence will be filled by someone else.
Desperate for anything other than this.
sick of stumbling on words that don't fit
trying to sound pretty but just tasting ash on my tongue
the dirt is just dirt, not a bed for sprouting new leaves
no cultivation will help me blossom
the meagre harvest of years gone by is as good as it gets
perhaps it's time to hang up the emotional shears
it's too painful to keep trying and not make it
let me fall asleep on the moss and become part of the scenery
it feels impossible
to ignore the vulnerability
extending the olive branch
sweeping shadows under the rug
to feel included
to ignore the reality
always a step behind
a beat or two out of time with the rest
trust and reliance further
from the bedfellows you had always believed
and resentment builds at tight-knit bonds
you've never felt welcomed in
always on the outside
playing make-believe with borrowed time
and the other kids' toys
sometimes the big girl boots
tread paths you're not ready for
and routes to new possibilities
though painful and lonely and
are safest for a heart
worn out from breaking
under the mishandled fragile bonds
left of a trampled soul
soundtracking my summer, soft and wistful
a teen nostalgia time capsule
of angst and wide-eyed innocence
simplicity wrapped in pastel softness
sugar mice, 99s, Boys Like Girls - how fitting
as thunder rolls in to clear the skies
for sunny promises and late night kisses
undiluted joy with barely mixed ***
sweet on my lips and salt at the waistline
warming our skin through windows
as gulls pepper the soundwaves
how magnificent the glory days are
reborn, revisited, revitalised
with today's knowledge
and back then's hope
danced and tiptoed and sprinted through
to songs of child hearts and dreamer tongues
The sky turns purple grey on the last aft of the decade and I can't help but lean into the flirtatious nature of newness and clean slate (even if only until the sun rises anew)
She shines bright like a star desperate to be seen among the inky night sky
In a universe stretching galaxies, with milky ways of endless beauty and terror and brightness and wonder.
She carries on flickering in the hope that those who spot her are guided to better things by her light.
She burns hot, forever aflame and highlighting the vast darkness that can never be kept at bay.
There cannot exist one without its opposing force and no matter how hard she tries, the pitch black will prevail.
She rails against the odds, emitting radiant hues in white and red and green and blue
Painting the universe with a haze that is distinctly hers, tirelessly working to brighten, lighten, to thrive.
But what happens when stars burn too bright having spent that light being seen
and there's none left to fuel the spark?
What happens to little stars alone in the sprawling universe, unseen and unmourned when they burn out?
a heart full of Norah Jones
but the pounding staccato is
not soothed by breathy velvet
built under a cerulean sky
bones of Tori Amos
soul of Fiona Apple
*** of Erin McKeown
make me a sapphire woman
hard edges and smooth plains
build me up and let me shatter:
Stevie Nicks untouched.
inky midnight colours me
drowning in its conflicting
warmth and chill
and still my veins sing the blues
I want to bask in the glory of your light and drown myself with your dark. Cool contradictions burn bright inside me.
In your arms I am Brigit, crafting a searing flame. Or Hestia, perhaps, as our hearth and home become one and the same.
Bathing in the warm winter sunlight I think of us intertwined, scintillating. It is not just a little spark. It is a roaring fire.
A flicker, a glimmer in the endless dark. Keep a candle burning, my love, to guide me always home.
A full heart - my reality itching to be etched in fantastical imagery. Forever burning for you.
It sits heavy on my heart
Stirs up my stomach
Twists me into knots
And I hate it.
Putrifaction in my veins
Rotting away my soul
Tearing my confidence to shreds
Digging deeper, desperate to taint.
Shiny. New. Small. Wanted.
Everything I'm not.
Dependable doesn't beckon bedfellows
When the unknown waltzes by in satin and ***.
Monstrous. Ever-present. Bellowing.
Inescapable are the doubts and fears
The panging need to be seen and held
As I was way back when.
Temptation at its peak
Soft and ready
Pulling you in
In inky midnight
Flesh meets flesh
Trail pretty words across my skin
Promise me nothing and give me the world's ripe fruit
As I quench my thirst with your juices.
Etch stars behind mine eyelids
And capture my breath in your whisper
As you weave fantasy in my tapestry golden hues of wonder.
Unlocking mysteries with your lips.
Wrapping your hair in my hands.
We become as one.
Your hand on my throat. My waist. My thigh. My cheek. Me.
The new day brings adventure
And we young hearts will never wake the same
As we do tonight.
Words tumble like broken glass from my mouth
Shards cutting my tongue and crunching between teeth
A demon claws at my chest, another stealing my breath
And I wish I would slip away but I'm all too aware
What will it take to quiet the screams
Ringing in my ears, catching in my throat
The melancholy is thick on my tongue
heavy on my shoulders
tight around my chest
pulling me down and down
under the bathwater as I stew,
The sad is not loud or exultant
it is not rage-fueled or violent
but a soft, lowly whisper
which crashes against me
waves of velvet and suffocating
emptiness tangled in my
ventricles, clenching and
draining and dimming.
Sit with it, they tell you
honour those feelings that steal your breath
or gut you with painful precision
sit and accept and move on
but how can I move forward when
time has lost meaning and
life has no direction and
purpose trickles down the drain
with the last of the bubbles.
Why is it that I can fill my mouth with clunky words, ugly words, but I can never pinpoint the pretty words that roll off my tongue and make pretty sounds?
I talk and am told I'm too much. I fold in on myself behind closed doors and berate my need for attention, unbridled desperation. Yet tomorrow more words will spill and spoil and even still I'll wish they were drowning me.
I want to choke on my verbiage. Sew my mouth shut with steely reminders that my teeth and tongue and lips will get me nothing but lonely and a stomach ache.
Make it stop. I can't take pliers to my molars while my tongue wags. Make me stop. I don't want to be loud but I am. Make the embarrassment stop. Shred my tongue into ribbons and make it end. Make the words stop.
Stalactites warp, following the bevels of the cave
Water drips rhythmically
Occasional tide patterns emerge and dissipate as echoes and ****** noise mingle and crest, ricocheting from natural ceiling.
my heart clenches thinking
back on friendships and fun and laughter
i poured my heart and soul into
desperate to give my weary head
space to look on those decaying connections
fondly, not with bitterness
the grief of friends loved and lost
to time, distance and mismatched expectations
is a quiet trauma that imprints on
yet I will repeat my mistakes again
ready to welcome new friends into my heart
and hope desperately it won't end
She is a whirlwind of contradictions
hates her flesh, relishes the freedom of her body naked.
She despises being watched, but performs for an audience
when the chance arises.
Her body thrums with carnal need, but shies away from intimacy
scared to be seen.
She encourages exploration, but is afraid to leave creature comforts
for fear of the unknown.
She's emptied herself to fill others up and fears her brimming emotions might overflow
Naive and wise beyond her years, old before her time
walking through life with childish wonderment and aged bones.
She is messy and clumsy and Not All That Good
And he sees her perfection.
Hot flames lick up my belly and ribs
Digits dance along my thighs
Lust metallic on my tongue
A white knuckle ride
Wound tight and buttons press
Unlocking ancient truths
Old as time, new as dawn
Chasing that wave as it swells
From the feet and up through
Every nerve ending
Heat radiates and sweat pools
Evidence of the relief
As the fire reignites
No room for closed minds
in a sea of writhing bodies
Plenty for the lonely
as I sit surrounded by noise
Empty but for the heaviness
inside every part of me.
Be good, be gracious, be willing
don't ruin this for them
Be happy, be into it, be excited
don't let your selfishness override.
Bending and bending
over and out of shape
Twisting this way and that
to ensure your happiness
That you get your fill
of small, beautiful, better.
But now as I shatter
all I feel is guilty
and stomach turns.
Why am I not enough?
He makes me see stars
paints galaxies on my skin
pours oceans of love
til I'm swimming in affections
slick on the marble
hooking his belt loops:
Let's lose ourselves tonight.
Limbs heavy, joints creak with aging beyond their years
My eyes are heavy with tears I don't have because the aching chasm in my chest is frantically drawing every drop of water in my body to fill it up so there's something there, parched and so empty that each tear drop echoes in the hollow cavern. My ears are ringing, auditory canal itching, lips tingling. My body is having a reaction, allergic to my brain and the toxins
chemicals of imbalance
He loves me
He wants her
I'll bend over backwards
Turn my stomach inside out
Sit home and pick myself apart
The ugly outside and in
Wishing I was more, less, better, not
Knowing all the while it's not me
But his too big heart and too much lust
Desperate to connect
And I know that desperation well
I had a him and a her and a them
He let me connect with
So the guilt wraps around me
Vice-like and unrelenting
Because I owe him this freedom
Without my hesitation and fear
I'll bite my tongue
Grin with blood soaked teeth
And let him roam awhile
Praying he'll return without resentment
In his belly
As he takes in his fill of her.
The taste of a ghost on my tongue
a memory in my throat
you name your taste your smell
filling my chest, stopping my heart
it's as if you never left
and this feeling
ice in my veins, fire licking
overwhelming in its newness and familiarity
I know you
I know you
awhile on my heart
let yourself be
known as you
are not as they say
you must be
in your own reflection
as you are
safe in here
i dream of a brave girl, bold and becoming
she steps with purpose and holds her head high
shoulders back, face determined but soft
i dream she will save me from the fear
slaying demons and battling foes
so great they paralyse mere mortals
but she will never come
because she is a version of me too out of reach
and instead i must find comfort in my own reflection
desperate to be seen, read, heard
validation is cloyingly sweet and unbearable on the soul when withheld
but on and on I’ll bellow in the spotlight
desperation pouring from every pore
sweat breaking on my brow from the forced performance
dance monkey dance
and at least if they laugh i’ll know that they noticed
what a pitiful thing to find in the pit of your soul
to be seen
The tale of Persephone dances on my skin
Birdsong felt hell-deep in my soul
White dress stained red, pomegranate
carcass left to be reclaimed by the soil.
Seeds and sticky juices long forgotten,
as seasons turn and reunion means retreating
but the hallowed halls held on weary shoulders
call and her heart will always answer.
Slipping a hand in that of the one she gives it all up for
to gain everything with.
Tempestuous eyes, weathered brow, slight smile
gleaming in the darkened corridors as she claims her throne
Lips stained by the juice of the pomegranate she
devours while thinking on him
Rolling seeds across the roof of her mouth with her tongue.
Bountiful contradictions in her empty palms.
She does not exist to perform his redemption arc
or become the harbinger of his destruction.
Playful, serious, light and dark
She reminds me that there is both light and dark in all of us
Can love really be so simple and so complex?
Must we give everything to gain everything?
Can such a fiery passion be felt so deep and never burn out?
Childish words desperate for sophistication in a mother's heels and pearls
Searching for authentic but coming up years too short.
A bitter pill to swallow, incompetence.
Not for lack of pain or power, but a search in vain.
Vanity is right. To want soft words that echo in others hearts is indulgent
But still I write as a toddler outside the lines, with no direction or skill, desperately searching for a prettier picture to emerge from the mess.
Stick figures pierce my tongue and
words ring uncomfortably in my mind.
A jigsaw puzzle with no edges and one hand tied behind my back.
Childhood chants for childish ways
Nothing permanent no new stains
Visible to the naked eye, anyway
Minds play tricks, what a treat
Brain's concoctions can't imagine
Attention isn't worth these pains
What goes up must come down
Lies, pretense, silly fancies
Self doubt sees the stalwart slain
- Questioning my insanity, a double-edged gaslight burns me at both ends but I no longer feel the flame
new life in a shell
brittle and cold
weight lifted, shoulders
drop and lungs sigh.
feline unfurling in the
sun warm exploring
muscle aches, joints
oiled and creating happy shapes.
room to move and enjoy
airy and open
skin pulled over, sinew
ready to settle and rest.
wiggling toes and brows
at peace and soft
teeth sink, lips
ready and patiently waiting.
memories dance atop
a body remembering
sunny days, past
delights will be born again.
Not so easy with thoughts
pelting towards you so
fast you can barely make
them out before they join
the shouting masses at the
back of my head
Drowning them out with
sticcato breath and out of
time heart beat
Echoing in my ears, caught
in my throat, coagulating
in my veins
An unpleasant mix for a
tasteless treat that
catches in the oven, burnt
out dried up hollowed out
No such thing as slow
here. Only ever faster
ever closer ever harder
Hello, my name is etiquette and I would like to see from you behaviour we expect
Hello, my name is self respect and I would like to share with you a revolution'ry idea
Hello, my name is mutual trust
Hello, my name is social norms
Hello, my name is flirting girls
Hello, my name is handsome boys
Hello, my name is open relationship
Hello, my name is hoping for the best
Hello, my name is less than ideal
Hello, my name is pretty, threatening
Hello, my name is married but still prettier. Smarter. Funnier. Sexier. Gamer. Relatable. Attractable.
This **** will change your life
This **** will change your life
HELLO I'M CHRONIC MISTRUST WOULD YOU LIKE TO RUIN YOUR LIFE AND MINE IN AN ENDLESS CLASH OF HYPOCRISY AND SELF CONSCIOUSNESS THAT WILL MAKE US BOTH MISERABLE AND INEVITABLY PUSH YOU AWAY?