now we're in the backseat,
and my stomachs turning.
maybe i just want people in my life
in an un-romantic way.
i like to get under their skin,
and steal their souls story.
i love how everyone is different,
and i can't hate a single thing,
because it makes them human;
the girls who steal bikes at midnight,
and the guys who offer their apartment
out at night.
i find myself in the wrong crowd,
i find myself in these situations,
in the backseat,
with someone who's speaks a
language far from consent
and it's all desperation.
his hands on my neck,
and there's no attraction,
physically.
mentally he has a way of making
my head spin faster than the
alchohol,
and i'm not sure if i'm
kissing him sober,
or if the night itself is drunk,
and i'm waiting for the sun to shine
a light on my mistakes,
as it always does.
i take their stories, they take mine,
but i'm not sure what part of it's true.
the girl in the backseat,
the girl shaking,
the rigid lips and bites.
maybe we won't speak,
maybe he'll lecture me again,
for using my body as a token
to pay my way.
love is an expensive thing.

a hybrid soul,
one to blend like watercolour
paintworks into the social canvas,
boys would stare,
at the star, gone dying, who knew
spotlights illuminate
the pretty parts,
the hips and the mannequin calves.
until the sun dimmers, like gods
dipped lantern burnt out,
and bodies are stripped like birds
of their feathers, plucked to glaring
scars and worn out faces peer
into the mirror - who is the ugliest
of them all.

they called her by names,
prettier than her own,
until she trembled into the
valley of the dolls, a dark and dismal
place with discarded arms and legs,
to build the perfect 'woman' -
a vulnerable creature, made to
be loved, to be wanted.

Your sun stroked fingers
smooth my dusted galaxies
spoiling orbiting blues
with swipes of stardust.

You kiss meteors, murmur
how you savored snippets
of Jupiter's moons in the
spaces of a poetic eclipse.

Adorning Saturn's rings
in your nebulous tombs,
rekindling your smile with
flames of lovers past.

The memory is still buried
within my core, a pounding
resonance that evokes the bloom
of summers kiss on Earth.

A welcome release for the
nights wandering stars.

She looked for love in the backseat of his car
She looked for it in dusty store rooms
In abandoned buildings, the rough palms of hands
She didn't find it in his whispered sweet nothings,
She didn't find it in his apartment building either

He looked for an easy conquer, a one night stand
He looked for an innocent smile, naive doe eyes
He looked for it in needy fingers, hitched breathes,
He found it in her hair balled up in his fist
He found it in her salty skin, her soft thighs

She was looking for love in all the wrong places

She was nature, beautiful
But deadly, her cheeks as
Scornful as a rose, the smile hid
The thorns underneath.

Her presence though unseen,
Could be felt, like the sun's warm
Breath on bare winter skin.

She led him somewhere secret
As the night lures the stars,
As clouds gorge on the
Fragile light of the moon.

Over the crumbled bodies
Of leaves, into the alien
Land of tranquility.

When he woke, hands burning,
There was nothing left to see.
Only a faint feeling glistening
In the air, a failing heart and
A tongue full of dreams.

he still doesn't realize
that beauty has a price

he plucks roses and
wonders why they wither
when he's never learnt
to check their roots.

with thorns between his lips,
he speaks softly about
the way love has eluded
him over the years.

his palms like written verse,
scarred and coarse, petals
falling delicately out of
time from his fingertips.

he sees beauty but he
does not see underneath

he has always been
one to see the flames
but never feel the heat.

Her eyes were two deep pools
And she was enticing you to drown in them
The water just looked too pretty to resist
So you jumped, but you forgot how to swim
And when you’re pulled under it’s too late
Those dilating pupils are a bottomless pit
And you’re a wilting rose in their darkness
You’ve been watered down into nothing

Eyes blue like the core of a flame
And true enough, you were drawn to them
A firefly burned gruesomely by the light
You couldn’t stay away; still and silent
Held mesmerised like many before you
Your throat parched for one sip
Regardless if water is polluted with apathy
Shameless; you’re drunkenly in love with it.

Hush now, don’t take a drink
Your lips may be cracked and bruised
But she is your poison and a slow one at best
A little boy like you should know better
Than to play with dancing, unruly fire
It burns, it burns, it burns
And the marks remain on your skin
A warning sign: “I was here first”

my minds like a child screaming,
and i'm full of headaches,
all these thoughts that i can't shake lose,
like brambles on my brain.
i wanted you to fix me,
instead you just wanted to **** me.
that was my mistake, again.
i tend to make them.
i have a thing for narcissists.
you can't be straight up and i'm too forward.
vulnerable is the new ****.
not stupid, vulnerable.
you asked about my brother and i stuttered,
i didn't know what to say.
maybe that was the first time i made you
uncomfortable,
because you realized i was a person.
the picture stared down at us from
the staircase,
isn't it odd how the dead can still watch us,
make us feel guilty.
you left with mumbled apologies,
the door slammed as you went,
it left a quiet emptiness within.
maybe that was easier,
there's already enough ghosts in this house
without you becoming one too.

tonight, something a little
stronger than poison
runs through my veins

it festers, intangible,
pretty like belladonna,
sweet like nightshade

it sways in the wind
of my lungs, it has it's
own tune you see.

i know it's a plague,
like him, we've all
been infected once.

tonight, it's angry,
venomous,
gardens of deep rose

and happiness returns
to being but a distant,
wavering sun.

this is not a death-wish
this is a resurrection.
on nights, you grow
weary of the sound of
your own breathing,
there is a fierce sun
burning inside you,
you must use it to grow,
not to scorch all you have.
you have tender hands,
why do you use them
to peel away your
conscious?
there is a thunder in
that insipid heart of yours,
go, forage it out.

sometimes boys will whisper  
i love you's too quickly
and you, anon, will believe them
with your gentle heart, and
capacity to believe in miracles.

sometimes the first guy isn't
the only one,
sometimes you didn't like him
to begin with and that's okay.
i know you wish it was that easy.

people say to look for love
in all places, but love likes to hide
in the nooks of bookcases,
in cars parked under trees,
in his reflection in the rear mirror
as he glances to see you
walk past with your heels too high,
and smile too giddy.

but that wasn't love.
love is mutually shared.

sometimes you fall in love
and it will hurt worse than that time
you broke your wrist.
you will shake with tremors
of madness and you will
remember his name.

it's like hearing a song
you haven't listened to in years.
something jogs your memory
and you still remember the lyrics.
you will list his hobbies,
his favourite colour, with
perfect memory.

anon, you keep finding love,
and you keep losing it,

but be patient, please.
when you are ready
tell love to come another day.

I didn't think danger had a face,
I saw you and I saw red beauty,
Plump, ripe lips,
My strawberry kiss,
You taste just like chaos feels.

You sold yourself sweet,
Red beauty,
In every book left unread,
The only thought in my head.
I could never find a warm lover,
In eyes, cold as these tombstones
Which we now embrace.

Sunsets asphyxiate skylines,
Tear lines, fate lines,
I think God wanted to see his favourite fall

Tantalizing fruit, stains like wine
On the mouth,
There is red beauty in a kiss,
And angels aren't so kind,
But neither are you.

Truth is you
weren't blameless
I saw your eyes
flash red that night
the fire in your palms
wouldn't burn out.

Together we were
a suicide pact,
there was something
about the drug in
each others eyes
that made us want
to overdose.

We itched like
razor blades
on each others skin,
our tongues a noose,
heartbeats fast,
furious.

My hands bled love
my knuckles
bruised like skies
I puked up every word
until I could finally
say goodbye.

i know you're searching
for a savior
but you're just another
ship captain and i'm
just another lighthouse
flashing you towards
the rocks
attention only makes
me more distant
at night i suffocate dreams
of you with a pillow
until i lie beside the
cadaver of our love
wrap it's cold,
dead hands
around my neck
like a scarf in
this winter hell
last i checked the
weather report
promised no sun
a god told me  
i'll sleep like the dead
when i live
like them too.

lately happiness seems to come and go
like a lover who bores easily
as i don't offer them enough to stay
while the depression always returns
like an abuser, it's fists made of ravage fire
masquerading loyalty and love i know is insincere

most nights
i'm only loving you
in fragments,
i'm only loving
you in death

i wander your
mind like a child in
search of it's mother,
but you were
orphanages
not loving homes

only drugs can
compare to
the feeling of
disillusion
i had when i was
with you.

i love you,
i crave
you

The sun forgave itself
long ago, for burning too bright,
it scorched our touching palms,
cheek to cheek, it burnt.*

That night we whispered
A song to the reeds,
Let it drift down that
Wayward line of memories,
Let it settle in the graves
Of each bed we slept in.

We let fate colour our
Hearts recklessly, like a
Child who can't stay
Within the confined lines
Of their drawing book.

Until the dawn began,
And we let our skin simmer,
Melting on each other's lips.
Until we are only skeletons
Embracing through a
World set in flames.

I stay up for the moons
Quiet gaze
The light by the bedside
Carves shadows of you
Into my bare frame
The air itself is naked
Vulnerable of all scent.
I kissed you thrice,
One on the lips
For devotion,
One on the ribs of
Your teeth,
On the elbow of your
Favourite book.
As all writers do.
I created that arched frame
That pulled your
Tendons tight
To my inked sheets,
Shot you into blind space,
While I teethed on
The bow of your
Fingertips
Our skin tarmac,
There was roadworks
Of our bed.
Toes dancing morbidly
Between bursting stars
While night gulls
And ravens watched
Through the window
Waiting to peck
At the mangled carcass
Of our hearts.

never mix a poet and an artist.
he whispered to me, his words mix like
paint in his head to form a beautiful
sunrise.
"two pretentious people can never
get their way,
we're two busy expecting the other
person to make a move".
i'm too scared to let him get close,
i'll write about him,
i won't be able to forget about him,
and all i want to do is act reckless
at night and pretend
i'm good in the morning.
i wonder what games i'm playing this time.
maybe i wanted to kiss him,
maybe i didn't.
my brain can't make it's mind up.
i'm fickle.
all i know is an emotion in the moment,
and i tug on it,
i won't let it go.
if i can feel anything at all,
let me feel it.
so i'll play with his hands and he'll shake
his head and complain i never know
what i want,
and our heads lean in and i tell myself
i won't kiss him,
and something twists in my stomach,
and i tug, i tug.

she's got that black dress on again,
the thigh-highs tight on slender white legs.
the men they stare like their eyes caught fire,
she's a walking inferno, smoke billowing
behind her heels.

have you ever had a stranger ******* so good
you told them you loved them?
she's tangled like a rainbow fish in his net,
the tide of the sheets pulling her in.

she's like a rare animal going extinct,
but oh her face is pretty,
like those flowers on your mothers windowsill.
and she tastes even prettier than she looks.

bury your face in her neck,
let her hair billow round in ringlets,
messy, knotty.
bury your face in her chest.

but if she says no,
that does not mean convince her,
her will is as strong as her thighs wrapped
tightly round his neck.

but it feels so good,
it feels so ******* good,
it makes her want to scream the walls down.

the pains and the pleasures,
are deliciously melted into one.
it's so wild here,
i feel as though i have become one
who lives in the gutter,
i'm no better than the rats.

it's where the animal instinct kicks in,
and we all scream until we can't say
we're sorry for what we've done.

there's men and they don't care
who you are, who you've seen,
they only want to know the feel of you,
and it's okay
i can only love physically,
the rest of me is dead, i left her back home.
she spoils the fun.

they laugh like wolves,
at her, at us.
the poetry girl in this ***** place,
she doesn't fit in, poetry is a language
different to what they speak.

because everything is filth,
i spit it and i live it.
and if you hurt me,
you know when to stop.
i'm not afraid to pull you to me.
we're as different as
the drugs you take.
one things certain, if i hurt myself,
i won't know when to stop.

it's better it comes from you,
strangers in paradise,
in a land as foreign as my head.
i won't stop,
i won't stop,
i won't stop,
i won't know,
i won't
know,
no,
*stop

Faces only remind you of
How lonely you are,
You say you've swam too far
Into the sea of your regrets
That I am your lifeboat
But didn't you hear
I sank long, long ago?

You've been searching
For a new home,
One that doesn't creak
Or shudder at night.
But homes are not people
And your voice cracks
As you point out
There's a welcome mat
By the front door
But I never answer
When you knock.

It's been a while since
I started attracting
Strangers with flashlights
To search me like
A haunted place.
I finally realized they
Were the ones that
Needed scaring away.

It's so odd to think,
You once told me
You saw beauty
In clifftops,
And I thought you
Were talking about
The view.

Girls like me are so hot
We are the sun burning into oblivion
Causing fires in the sky of your sheets
We're ghosts with beating hearts
Our minds concrete fires,
Wordless books, eroding cliffs.
All the things you started but could never finish.

Girls like me, we're unattainable.
You can only pretend you had us.
If only for a second before we disappear.
Moving like quicksand through your fingers.
Leaving you grasping at the air for nothing.
You'll wonder if your imagination
Struck cruel again.

Our lips won't offer you salvation.
You won't find peace in our bodies.
We kiss with scarred knuckles
We do not love gently, if we love at all.
You can hold us tightly but we won't break
Girls like me are made of marble;
Not even fire can **** us.

Us hurricane girls are the devils delight.
We consume souls with delicate fingers.
Nails red and perfectly manicured to a point.
Our lips plush; the taste of cherry and blood.
We paint our desires on our fingertips
Leaving traces of them on everything we touch
We're disasters but we're oh so beautiful

My mind keeps pictures of you up on its walls
                            again
                         ­         and again
I find my thoughts drifting down that river of memory
orbiting around you, like forces of gravity drawn
to the idea of us (if there even is an us)

If I could then I’d lock you outside my brain, leave you out there to rot
in the abyss, where your words couldn't penetrate me
and your lips that work like anesthesia forbidden to numb me again

I won't do you the injustice of romanticizing your imperfections
You're no nebular, you're a black hole, a gaping flaw in creation
Your eyes that held millenniums of history, now hold me no future

You made me forget what it feels to have stability
To not walk out of a room and forget why I left
You make me want to shred the skin you touched
Like a reptile, to become reborn, purified from my past.

There never were any butterflies in your stomach, only parasites
but you fed them to me readily like a disease

So no, I won’t dedicate you another love poem
                 no I want (deserve) better
This isn't what love should be
I’ll write you a poem where the words convulse on the page
and you’ll forget to read it (you always do)

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be.*" - Wuthering Heights.

beauty, is in love's eyes,
i once read that if he still makes your heart
anchor itself to your abdomen,
after three months, it's love.

well, my metaphors are wasted on you,
my words are a fancy way of
expressing myself and they contain
too much of you.

you've got a temper,
enough to rumble under these streets,
and collapse what i've been building.

i get sick of building blocks,
love is child's play, and i just want
us to be adults.

i promised to love you, and i do in
my own odd ways,
you broke my heart, i broke yours.
i still want you to know,
a mosaic wouldn't be so beautiful,
without all the cracks.

Loving you is synonymous with setting yourself on fire
It seems the only way to stop the fire is to drench yourself in tears
And as it burns; the passion spreads wildly, untameable
Racing amongst gasoline veins during restless nights

The fireworks have exploded in my head this time
Flamboyant paint splashes the blank canvas of my mind
I'm feeling dizzy from the taste of electric lips and metallic tongue
Skin touching; your fingers dance a brief ballet across my skin

Unrequited love can only blossom so long without water
But will my showers of affection cause our withered love to grow
Or become waterlogged while we drown?
I stamp out my words and bury them in the dirt with a harsh finality
They rest in peace but my mind won’t settle
There is a raging inferno eating at my heart
And I'm not sure I want to put it out.

hand reaching over
the phantom scars on her leg,
eyes profoundly broken as
flickering christmas lights,
a child weeping inside
the grown woman.
she smiles, she sighs.
there is grey where there
used to be sunshine,
there are desolate trees,
where the birds used to sing,
and crane their necks
like curious strangers,
at women who sit on lone benches
cradling palms,
stirring up memories of
touch so gentle it hurt.
until people float in and out
like a lifebuoy at sea,
until a wolfish man in scruffs
whistles and waves slowly,
as though time itself has broken.
she sinks deeper into herself,
into the womb of mothers;
into all the love
and all the heartache.

i hate you, and i wish you were dead,
because if you were dead,
i could remember you kindly,
my memory would be of
how you cared for me,
not how you hurt me.

i could reflect on us fondly,
without every memory tainted
by how you left me all bone,
that vultures could not find
anything left to pick of me.

there would be no need
to think about what you were up to
every single day.
i would think of you rotting,
and how i wished you could stay.

i wouldn't pace aimlessly,
my head cold like the winter sky,
knowing you are out there living,
vivacious, carefree,
not giving a **** about me.

i do not wish to have unmet you,
but i do wish you dead.
instead i'm grieving someone
who's still alive.

Men they call them,
I have a different name.
I find myself scoffing at the dark,
At hands that rough themselves
Against me,
At prowling fingers pulling leaves
As they go.
Perhaps they have yet to learn,
That is it better to nurture
Than to maim.
Watering my roots will make me
Grow taller and prouder,
To take pieces, branches,
Stunts my growth,
The leaves will only decay soon anyway.
I’m learning quickly,
To be alone is better than in bad company.
I am longing for those days
I stop chasing after bad men.
It’s like running towards the knife
Instead of away from it.
I have a habit of sacrificing myself
To these men,
Like I am the devils conquest.
I’ve become a mad woman
Trying to find someone who cares enough
To learn all my crevasses.
I keep telling myself
That I will forget them,
One day my eyes won’t stare
Watering into the dark,
My fists as tight as my stomach.
I will fall asleep peacefully in arms
That water me with potential.
I want physical comfort to be
Meaningful again.

we take long drags
of each others skin,
the addiction comes
in phases.
day 1: my lungs sigh, weary,
air does not satisfy,
day 2: we're chasing
lifelines, that are rusted
and in vain
day 5: bad habits are
hard to break, beg, at the
holy altar of our mistakes
day 8: hands desperate,
clammy, unfurl
like belladonna palms.
day 9: i hope your
vocal cords strain, that
the only word you can
bear to say is 'stay'.
day 11: last breaths
muffled in the
graveyard of a kiss.
day 17: darling, i'm
losing track of time
day 28: i'm finding it
a little bit hard to quit.

My heart is made of ash
Its fire burnt out long ago
Passion is fleeting,
A burning candle ignited then
Blown out by the winds whisper
And it seems I took a match to my heart
And set it too suddenly
While your match burned out
Because you were reluctant
To hold it towards your own

My heart blazed like the sun
While yours remained frozen in time
And every kiss I gave
Were fireworks exploding on the skin
Whilst yours were gentle snowflakes
That I would try desperately to catch
But they would melt away
Before I could memorize their delicacy

And that was where I went wrong
Believing you were delicate
When you were made of stone
A statue unswayed by the storm
I felt every raw, uncensored moment
While you experienced barely a spark
I believed our love from the start
But you doubted every second

There are fewer things
beautiful than ugly,
I know that stars are most
bright when they fall
from impassioned skies,
That when your skin
meets mine, I am like an
amnesiac being returned
a lifetime of memories.

I hate few things,
except, perhaps, the murky
lakes of your eyes,
The misty beaches we
explored until sunrise.
How you pressed your lips
to mine like a death wish,
that it was deplorable,
but we wanted more, more.

My body was a map
you tore apart when you
got tired of exploring it.
The ancient psalms of our
tongues cannot silence.
Ruins of ancient Rome
survive on your lips, yet
you still live, breathe.
You call yourself mortal.

Innocence is the days when
I thought that monsters
lived under the bed rather
than slept right beside me.

It was the times I feared
heights almost as much as
I now fear brooding stares.

Back when I thought
passionate love was the
only kind worth having
— that I now wish for a
lover who loves quietly.

Innocence was thinking
danger was an ill-advised
adventure, not a man.

It was admiring a tornado
heart and not realizing the
damage it would cause.

Sunday morning,
the air froze, the dahlias
once bloomed angry,
now they shiver and sigh.

Autumn breeze, faint but still,
the padded ghost-steps
of your laugh, running wild,
like vintage photographs;
scattered Polaroids of
my memory - a smile here,
a grimace there.

How the heat of
emotions buries itself
in the clothes of yesterday,
How difficult it is to
fetch from the seams.
The needles only *****
at a faint feeling.

I wonder; do you forget me
as winter forgets the living?

Because once an old man
told me I had sad eyes

Sunsets melt to chalky lines,
like cigarette stubs, they died
when you met her.

These days only my fingers
remember summer,
I touch the hearts of others
to warm them too.

My voice wind chimes,
the eulogy of the storm,
when I breath your
name I shudder...

And listen-
because I am in
the echoes
of her, of us.

You breathe my name into
your chest, letting me settle
like dust into your bones.

Tethering me to this moment,
eyes fierce, burning as vibrant
as tiger lilies in a vengeful sun.

Your fingers burning holes in
our sheets, leaving remnants
of their disgust in my scars.

Even to this day I cannot stay
up for the sunrise, I find your
taste infused on my tongue.

And I'm still left to wonder if it
was Lucifer I saw in your eyes
or the gods that condemned me.

homewrecker,
you lived within every
callous and dimple,
invading my space
like dust between
my fingertips

your skin like wallpaper,
faded and worn,
pulled taunt along
these walls.

your thoughts
a constant thumping
of footsteps along
the floorboards

homewrecker,
from you i learnt
gunshots sound
a lot like a key
turning in a lock

it's because of you
i cannot look at
these walls, without
seeing the shadow
of a fist reflected
by the light

homewrecker,
the rooms are vacant,
the air stilled,
the hallways scream
and close in at night.

homewrecker,
i used to be an open house
but now because of you
i shut the doors
(i shut the doors)

he only thinks you're
pretty when you cry
when the aching
vulnerabilities sting
like red welts along
cheeks that are
white as teeth
only then are you pretty,
when the red blood
tears fall like soldiers in
the war of peace and
he kisses the place the
bullet exits
he promises he will
still love you as the lion
that murders the lamb
when the sky bleeds,
crimson echoes down
mountains of death
his viper hands
snake round your
hips and you just
don't mind, you just
don't mind anymore

We will leave you in the midst
of a poetic truce, as you spill
experiences into our open palms.

Writing to make sense of what
has happened, nestling your
deepest secrets in our fingertips.

Our roots so deep in our poetry,
if you tried to unearth us, we would
shriek louder than banshee's.

Unravel our words, enter the
labyrinth of our minds, there are
sunsets in our stomachs, and
December runs through our veins.

We are the stars to your blank skies,
the pause between each ragged breath,
the tragedy suffocating the air.

We are the pause before the applause,
we are rarity's like Haley's comet,
making you scramble for a telescope.

Only crows writhing with broken
necks are more twisted than the life
stories resting under our tongues.

We are poets, engraved in history,
fluent in all that is artistic and worldly.

Poetry is a warm blanket we remain
hidden in on a cold winter morning.
Reality is a cold floor that our
bare feet are too scared to touch.

*By Rapunzel and JannaLee Perry

i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.

she slides her slender
white fingers down the
branches of his spine

her eyes melted like
glaciers and lips as soft
as freshly fallen snow

skin lustful, but heart
unforgiving, exhaling
his every intention

she is autumn in his
palms, her trees bare,
the leaves rust fallen

flashing indifference,
thoughts plucked in
shades of violent rose

i raised her
with a violent birth
my vocal cords tangled
like a drunk couple
making love
with her name.

she emerged from
the slit in men's throats,
a grown woman,
her sister followed,
from suffocated coughs,
glowing like streetlamps
from mouth to mouth,
never happy,
never settled.

girls like her,
they don't enter this
world easy,
they leave it in a mess,
exit it like a highway,
move on to the
next place.

there's a stain they
always leave,
yellow on the teeth,
marks on bed-sheets,
empty rings on
bedsides with last
nights drink
gone cold just like
their feelings.

just a girl they say,
harmless,
girls have endless love
in their hearts,
and endless hate.

i still remember the nights
spent tracing her lips, looking
for meaning in their cracks.

(shrunken spines, curling
lips and cosmic eyes.)

she'd kiss away my fears,
paint them black and blue,
distorting memories until
they became meaningless
lies dripping so easily off
her tongue that i'd soon begin
to mistake them for truths

(shrunken spines, curling
lips and cosmic eyes.)

Untouchable, she was the
kind of beauty to keep you
transfixed, swirling skies,
killing time, the crescendo
building up in your head
until everything just
suddenly
               goes
                       blank.

she was shrunken spines,
curling lips and cosmic eyes

i loved her, i hated her,
i still wish i could see her
without the memories
lying breathless,
clouding my gaze.