The palms of our hands touch,
their intricate lines joining together like seamless maps.
The light surrounds us,
and we are quiet.
My fingers,
were made for yours.
They were made for gentle hands,
and eternal love.

You are all I know.
(but you were the first to let go).

A coffee stain lies on the table reminding me of the time I got sick of coffee and threw it at the wall
it’s faded scratched ring leaving a scent of people are not always what you think they are at all
The tarp over my window that broke at least a month ago now let’s in the cold that winter brings
I remember me and Johnny smashed it playing ball and sometimes I almost forget these things
In the morning when my toast comes up from the toaster and leaves it’s crumbs behind I smile
Because not waking up to breakfast in bed from him reminds me good things only last a while
Well the rain came through the blue tarp today and a droplet landed in my eye startling me
And the footprints on my doorstep have faded without my noticing
The summers I spent down by the river are long gone and Shelley doesn’t ever call anymore
Sometimes I press my small fingers to the buttons on my phone then I wonder what I’m doing it for
At night when I look up at the three stars from my old balcony I know that they’ve never changed
It gives me hope that one day maybe I will wake up and find that my past and present are the same

The light of dawn grew,
into my hands and the lines in the corners of my eyes..
and it was soft and sad all at once
because it was upon awakening that i’d remember you always.
And it was you,
clumsily smiling and looking at me with those eyes that shot through my heart like daggers.
And it was you,
who taught me that flowers could grow in my darkest garden corner
and i,
slowly rocking,
came to be still and safe.
And as the light filtered through my curtains at 6 am
I wondered if you were out there,
somewhere,
watching the light come through your curtains,
too.

My lips are bruised.
They are red,
and raw,
from biting them.
Tired of trying not to remember,
the taste of your lips.
My face is pale,
hollow.
my eyes wide with fear,
with shock.
The bags under my eyes,
show signs of giving up,
show signs of being too afraid,
of laying in bed alone.
My ribs have grown a face,
and they smile at me in the mirror.
Their teeth a razor sharp edge,
cutting across my skin.
I look,
caught in the headlights,
of an oncoming car.
I look,
like I don't care,
if it runs me over.
Too afraid,
to feel,
I encase myself in the darkness.
But that is just as bad.
It suffocates me,
makes me *****.
My lips are bruised.
They are red,
and raw,
from biting them.
Tired of trying not to remember,
the taste of your lips.
And as the first signs of a slow death start to show,
I realise I am in hell.

I will pack up all my dresses
put them in brown boxes.
I will draw all the rough curtains
and lock all of the doors.
I will give away all my books
and wrap up all my china.
I will leave, I will leave, I will leave.
You will call for three long days
and wonder where I am.
You will ask my best friend Mary
about the location to which I've gone.
You will remember the way I smiled
and then realise what I've done.
I will leave, I will leave, I will leave.
The dust is starting to settle
like the frozen river in winter.
Oh the flowers are starting to bloom
It's been a year now, It's been a year.
Sometimes memories come calling
then blow away like dandelions.
I need you, I need you, I need you.
You and I used to get so drunk
and sing until we fell.
Then one night you looked at me
and kissed me 'till the light.
Now the Autumn leaves fall softly
as the hurt comes back in stages.
Why'd I leave, why'd I leave, why'd I leave.
The ice only lasts so long
before you remember nothing's left.
Whilst the frost slowly thaws
cracking fragments of my heart.
And if one day I return
I hope to hear your voice.
Oh I hope, oh I hope, oh I hope ..

Sometimes men come along, and set fire to great forests in order to destroy them.
But the trees do not see this as ******.
Instead, they choose to look at it as an opportunity to be reborn.
So as men watch the red and black coals of what is left, the trees secretly give birth to hidden seeds and germinate, reappearing months, or even weeks later.
And when the men come back again, they cannot bring themselves to set fire to the forest once more -
**for something which denies death and reaches its branches out to the light must surely be an angel.

Red was everywhere.
It was on the walls and covering my hands.
It was dripping from the ceiling.
It was in my heart.
I turned myself inside out for you.
I shrunk.
I bled.
I hurt.
I woke up one morning and everything was smeared with the colour of terribleness.
A great terribleness that was bigger than me and you and anything worth love.
So I sat at the kitchen table and cried.
The bowl of cereal sat untouched
I too was untouched.
I was untouchable.
Now when I cross the road I remember crossing it with you holding my hand.
And we were happy.
And we were in love.
Now I cross the road alone carrying a great loneliness on my back.
Now I cross the road without even looking.
When I was born red was everywhere.
But it was the colour of my hair
And the lipstick she wore on special occassions
And my favourite colour.
Now red covers my hands and drips from the ceiling like blood.
Now red fills my eyes.
Now red is everywhere.

Her little fingers,
were always dancing,
and when an eyelash fell,
she wished for him.
Her little fingers,
were always holding,
her heart together,
in broken pieces.
Her dark eyelashes,
were always blinking,
blinded by the light,
into which she could not see.
Her dark eyelashes,
were always falling,
and one by one,
they grew back new.
Time did pass,
like a slow dawning frost,
and her little fingers,
slowly grew rough.
Time did pass,
like a slow dawning frost,
and her dark eyelashes,
stopped falling,
one by one.

Her eyes were candles (until they got put out.)
A painful laugh escapes her lips
a real laugh in the realm of deep aching.
Now she sings. (Softly at first)
Then louder (only to herself.)
and everything becomes the slave of her soul,
just
for
a moment.
Tear ducts sealed,
tremors of sadness,
vanished
until
everything must stop for a moment
and grow quiet.
Body rocking, soul sobbing
infront of the T.V while the 7 o'clock news plays dumbly.
It's all
so
fragile.
(It has to be.)
Her heart stops whispering
and becomes
a broken limb.
(I am a bird and she is me)
be free.

In the waiting room,
the walls are white
Scrubbed with a strong chemical weekly.
The people are white
The chairs are white
My room at home is white
When will I be called to go in?
Soon.
It's the longest memory,
this coming and going of pain
(Though the pain never really goes away)
It just quietens.
The hospital blinds are white
Her face wasn't white
(It was yellow)
But I am white
It is the most terrible colour
Wrapping it's arms of sickness around me
It is the most surreal memory
(Who am I?)
Was that me?
It was me before half of me left
When I was whole
When I was not white
But
Pink
And red
And all things hopeful.

Today is your birthday.
I wake up to sunshine,
we're going to the beach.
The water is warm enough,
but,
I don't go in.
You loved the water.
I wanted to buy you flowers,
write you a letter,
let it go in the sea,
but,
I couldn't.
I wanted to hold your hand,
I wanted to say, "I love you"
but,
my hands are yours now.
Today is your birthday.
You would have been 54.
I guess you still are,
54,
in a way.
It's just that,
you're in heaven,
now.
I miss you,
until it aches.
I miss you,
until folding in half,
I hold myself,
and shake,
until I am empty again.
Today is your birthday,
and it isn't getting easier.
You gave me love,
you gave me life.
And I hope that,
you're watching from heaven,
mum,
because today I blow you kisses,
and,
set my spirit free,
just like you would have,
on your birthday.

He killed me at once
then came back to finish me
as though I was whole

Grey is the colour of the winter sky that wraps it's dull arms around me each day that I wake.
Green is the colour of his eyes that looked at me as though I was too beautiful to break.
Red is the colour of my eyes after months without sleep and too many days spent crying.
Black is the colour of the pain inside my heart after giving up on trying.
Yellow is the colour of the sun in spring that can no longer warm my soul.
Blue is the colour running through my veins that burn for me to feel whole.
Brown is the colour of his skin as I bury my happy face in the curve of his neck.
Pink is the colour of the lipstick that I apply to cover up the fact that I'm a wreck.

And please know that while you’re living your life, I’m in the dark falling apart.
Because you are the colour forever in my heart..

Under black and white hue water rippled softly, kissing and caressing my skin.
I was infinite,
beautiful,
a star.
I was the person he’d never leave,
and the daughter she’d live for.
I was the sky,
the moon,
the sun.
I was everything the earth had ever kissed.
And while sunlight twinkled I sat on warm rocks as water gushed from great peaks at my back,
and I laughed,
trembled,
shook, at the gift that was the present,
the essence that made life beautifully tragic.
And so alone,
however not lonely at all,
I let the hysteria encapsulate me
take hold of me
wrap it’s arms around me
as I laughed all the way back to my body,
where amongst a classroom full of familiar strangers,
i sat quietly
feeling utterly,
alone.

small,
subtle moments of happiness,
lay upon,
your fingers.

they dance,
like the flame of a candle.
like everything around you,
sits quietly,
and stops.

your fingers,
are just like mine.
they both need,
and move,
and create.
the only difference,
their size.

we grasp one another,
like we are in love.
like the wick of the candle will never burn out.
but it won't,
and we are.

so as these small,
subtle moments of happiness,
encase our hands in a lovers knot;
let us be quiet,
and know each other's eyes.

mum

i enter your room
after you have passed
but you're still here

i can smell your perfume
your clothes
and i can feel your presence
your love

i enter your room
two weeks earlier
you are in your bed
smiling at me
your voice familiar
and warm
and motherly

i don't remember you as sick
or tired
i remember you as beautiful
and strong

mum

you showed us the ocean
and the colour of the sky
you gave us the world
the stars

you made us daisy chains
and sung to us
you made us who we are
and who we'll soon be

one day
i will think of your laugh
and smile
but for now
i cry

mum

you're still here
i can feel it in every breath
and though the world seems very dark
the sun still shines

love lives on

You surprise me,
so softly,
you wish to see me.
Why?


I am but,
a bundled mess
of pessimism and nerves, and
Him.




Now I am not used to this,
this pushing away and you,
coming back,
asking, ‘when?’
and I,
in my paralysed uselessness say soon but avoid making a date,
but then,
I think of you
for hours
and hours
and hours.


I just wanted,
a ****,
to be honest.
But you won’t let me be that girl,
you make me
something more.
And it surprises me and warms me,
and makes me feel so valued
and that is why,
I’m going to say, 'Yes'.

Yes to that **** date you've been asking me on for a month now,
yes to french kissing, to holding hands, to awkward stares in between movie scenes.
Yes to searching for things to say, to getting to know one another’s ways,
now will you leave me alone?

I have some excuses that need making up.