For so long, I wanted to die.
Now I'm not ready --
*I've just begun living.

the boy you love is in your bed and
he is shaking

you wonder if it will always be like this,
tremors through his arms and legs, or if this
is only because he is wrapped in sheets that
smell like someone else.  so you offer him a bowl,
partly to calm him down but mostly because
when he takes a drag he cups his hands and
bows his head and it looks to you like he is
praying and his hands are still shaking and you
wonder if he has faith in anything and if not
maybe that thing could be you

so you clime beside him and you inhale as
he exhales and for a moment he is
                                                                                          still

the boy you love is in your bed and
you are shaking

if you are the whirlwind,
i would fly straight to you
i would embrace you without fear
i would chase you
and keep you company
while the others fall back in fright

swirl by swirl,
i will let myself be caught in a trance
that i will never want to escape from

as i orbit you,
i will realize there is no place else
i would rather be -
just there,
in the middle of chaos and wreckage,
with you

I miss your smile,
your laughter,
the chuckle you had,
the way your whole body
colluded with the laugh.

I miss your step,
the way you walked,
the soft spoken talk,
the humour, the dry jokes,
that I miss deeply,
the memory chokes.

I miss your look,
that gaze,
the big eyed stare,
that look
that seemed to say:
I care.

I miss you
for not being here,
miss your presence
in a room,
the chair vacant
where you once sat,
the photographs of you
looking back,
saying nothing,
looking far away,
nothing more to say.

I miss the whole of you,
not just bits and pieces,
not just this or that,
not just your tee shirts
or black hat.

I miss you
and wait for answers
that may never come,
never find the real reason why
someone ****** up
or why you had to die.

I think I saw her once
Walking by the bridge

With her collar turned up
Against the wind

And her hands
Stuffed in the pockets

Of her coat
To keep them warm

And breath from her lips
Rose like incense

In the chill November air.

She wanted nothing touched,
Wanted the dark room left
Bereft of nothing not even dust,

All left as it was when baby died,
And the outer world caved
Inwards and crucified
Each muscle and bone

Each fibre of brain
That carried the pain
Of loss and tug

No more on **** or dug.
She wanted nothing moved
Or put aside for memory’s draw,
She wanted it all as it was before

The cot in place; the curtains drawn,
The chair to sit; a place to mourn.

It was just one of those moments
In combat, the soldier guessed,
One of those gritty times of war,

When who was who
Didn’t matter no more.
The girl he held

Was dying fast,
Her feeble breath
Ebbing away

Across his shoulder
Like a frail tide of being;
Someone’s bundle of joy;

A bloodied jumble
Of flesh and bone;
Which at home,

No doubt,
Would cause a stir,
If known, or seen;

But this was war,
The cruelty of war;
Taking no sides

Amongst such slaughter;
Someone’s child,
Someone’s daughter.

“Can you get your head
Off my breast,” she said,

The dead weight was killing her,
Sending messages

To her brain to get
The pain-in-the-****

Off of her, go back to sleep;
But when she gazed at him,

At his fine shaped,
Dark-haired, head,

She relented,
Let him lay his head

And thought of him
Dying there instead.