I arrived earth shattering
Nails in my heels
Ready to crack concrete
Unwilling to be moved
Feet firmly on the ground
With a stubborn dignified silence
Or a speech I'd rehearsed
For the past three years
Unsure of which I might need.
He sits down in front of me
Gaze avoiding
Looking as if he can already sense the bitterness
Already feel the heat
Of all the space between.
He orders something unfamiliar  
And I wonder if it tastes like regret
Finally drinking down the consequence
He poured for us both
All those years ago.
In his face I sense a shame
And I think I'm supposed to be smug
That this is supposed to be the retribution
I craved for so long
This meet -
Him, with his cup of bitter
Me, dealt a dose of sweet.
I'd always envisioned this was the time
I'd finally taste some vegence
But all that's here is bittersweet
Saturating the space around us
Like there's no way to divide.
He musters some courage to look at me
Green eyes pierce
Just as fiercely now as they did back then
Stare right through the pupils
To the insides of the girl
Who's heart he ripped from it's chest.
I can't even fight it
It so immediately burns through
All the pain
All this strength and all this healing
Every scrutinised thing
I'd spent the last three years dealing with
The never ending proverbial glue
I'd used to forge myself whole
Suddenly becomes redundant
These cracks shining through.
My feet are no longer steady
I've forgotten all that made me reborn
I was supposed to find my voice  
Salvage this final rise
With an opportunity to bask in integrity
And finally leave it behind.
Instead I am 22 again
Mesmorised
Stomach churning
He always did have the ability to melt the ice
I built myself on
Like no one else I've ever met.
I hold his gaze a little longer than I should
He reads my eyes like a familiar book
And I know this game
And how it ends
But my heart is thumping his name against my chest
So loudly
It drowns out all the memories and words
I've sat with every day since he left.

I purposefully forget to remind myself
That he's the worst idea I ever had
Because I'm staring at his lips
And all I can think about
Is how much I want them on mine.

His mouth always did taste like hope.

I feel displaced

Like if I let my guard down for a second, my intentions might be misplaced.

And who is here to reckon with this, it would be simpler if my perpetrator had a name; but I think it's just me to blame.

Displaced; misplaced; intentions unseen;
easily erased.

Maybe if you were able to see me you would understand I only want to be known. But to be known takes being seen and being seen takes being known. We are 0 for 2 and I don't know what it means to cry for help so I just stay here unseen, unknown, displaced or maybe misplaced.

I no longer know.

Do not be afraid to write
poetry,
do not be afraid to let parts
of your soul take form
in word and verse
and do not be afraid to crush the mountains
of doubt from the ones you love
and show them that what you have
to say is worthwhile and permanent
and show them that you are not afraid
of your scars and your thoughts
and your mistakes
and do not be afraid of the pain
of reopening old wounds
and letting the gush splash across
the page in witty diatribes
that make you feel a little better
about the fact that you let a relationship
nearly **** you
and do not be afraid to line up all the painful
memories and conversations you'll never be able to have
and one by one
write them into poetry
and get them out of your soul
where they've been rotting
and turning you inside out.

Is love like
flipping a coin
Or water-flowing
Or electrons going
Only one direction
Possible at a time

©  2017 Jim Davis

Who'll you blame for the falling stars
When you're the one picking at them?

       But I only tried to rescue the moon
       He was stuck after the sun.

I find you in the margins of old school books,
in the cupboard where I keep my old notepads,
in the stories I’ve forgotten I’ve written.
It’s all scraps of myself in rounded letters,
uncanny because it looks like me,
sounds like me,
but it’s you and it is you
but it’s like me too.

I’m opening you (and me) back up and I hate you.
I hate you, but here we are,
in the mirror maze,
all these mes and yous
in the endless tunnel of mirrors,
back to back, side to side,
caught in ourselves at every angle.
We’re all the same: We’re all so different.
None of us are good.

I hate you.

I hate you at every age,

Then reality splays, sprawls flat out in front of me, exams, money, work, decisions, tight nooses that bind me to life. Get your head out of the clouds, girl  *(2012)

at every stage,

Big smiles, A stars, clever girl, the anomaly, dry compliments, sand paper against my skin. Locked in, not a word, just a mind gone grey, a growing mass of dust that swallows the light and only allows for glasses poured half empty* (2014)

at every moment,

I don’t fit in, never have done, never will. I’m always one step ahead or one step behind. I’m never quite there. But no one understands. They say they do but they don’t. I’m different and I don’t like it but I don’t want to change because this is who I am and whatever happens, I have to put up with it (2012)

all your hatred, you happiness, your ignorance and your sadness

The scab peels and leaks. Too soon to heal, too late to undo the fall. Tomorrow, you’ll trip again and your skin will bleed but this time you’ll know where to find the first aid kit. (2013)

You make me sick.

The world was blue today, a metaphorical wish wash of tears and a meagre ocean. Ice cream dripped in depression, picnic blankets snagged on pebbles and the kite committed suicide on the telephone lines. (2013)

I hate the scraps you’ve left behind

I put bits of you in the bin. I put you out for recycling.
I donate you to charity shops and so you live on and I can’t get rid of you.
There’s no way out of this mirror maze,
no way to avoid the mirrors at angles,
no way for me to escape you or for you to escape me.

There are so many of you and I literally want to beat you all to death.
Oh, I hate you. I hate you.
I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything more than I hate you.
I hate the tone of your words,
I hate your stupid sadness.
I hate your happiness.
I hate your hope.
I hate the memories of your laughter.
I hate the memories of your fun.
I hate you for all the things you’ve done and
never had time to feel bad for.
I hate you in the photographs,
in the words, in the schoolbooks,
in the poems that I’ve shared,
I hate, I hate, I hate.

I wish I could smash up this maze of mirrors and you,
but then I’d only be left with myself
and I hate her too.