Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
shaun May 11
obsessed with yourself,
you speak to the rest of us in riddles
yet it’s not a skill i have mastered -

i have learned what it’s like to be really loved
and 30 seconds of a favourite song of yours on the keyboard
not to impress or brag
but to claim it back -

the wounds from your claws are healing
but i almost picked the scab,
a physical scar to match the mental one
though yours are bigger, deeper
if trauma is a competition, you win
here’s the crown
keep the trophy -
a symbol for the love i once had for you
cos i’m waving the white flag
here’s to my victory
np: tom  waits / walk away
shaun May 8
they say it takes time
the wounds will heal
be patient,
kurt vile says:
give it some time
yet my imagination is not wild
it's matter of fact
black and white
like the words against the paper
reporting your passing.

june marks the transition from spring to summer,
longer days, fuller trees
yet it also marks the start of a decline
watery eyes, heavy limbs
a sense of loss incomparable to bereavement -
i carry one on my back every day
i miss you
the other is stored in my back pocket
loss of self, hope
waiting for its scheduled visit

i miss you today and i'll miss you tomorrow
the same way i have missed you for over half of my life
but i'll especially miss you when i get my BA certificate
the same way i longed for you during all of my other milestones

the bad feeling remains in my pocket
for now
but your last gift hangs around my neck
and ink dedicated to you will stay on my skin
until i see you again
shaun May 3
one hand to count the reasons to dust myself off
the other to cup my right breast

the best
and the worst of days

hold my hand
wash my hair

opening the curtains doesn't sting
like it did last week

i can eat a full meal again
and find joy in golden buzzer videos

that's you
helping me to find faith

i love love you
shaun Mar 27
my hands, cold, in my pocket
still cold -
craving the warmth of another
an other

tears on the pillow
tingles in my tummy
a weight from my back,
put in my pocket for another day

i don't possess enough fingers,
the day doesn't give me enough time
to say
to show
my love -

i only have words
and a bluer sky than yesterday,
new hair, new me
same you
thank God

thank You
everything feels much less scary w you by my side thank u i love u
shaun Mar 27
the earth still spins,
my toast will burn
the minutes go by
at the same speed
i forget what you sound like
just remember how you felt
how every word has stuck to my cortex
etched itself into my skin
i don’t like satsumas
but i’ve been trying to peel this layer
a hard exterior i don’t want anymore
and exterior given to me
by people i loved,
by people i loathed
in menace
but i grimace
and give off an energy screaming confidence
screaming pride
shaun Mar 18
i've apologised for the hair on my upper lip
and the cellulite on my thighs,
for crying over a death 12 years ago
and for being too loud, too brash
yet the body that entwines with mine
hands clasped, held tight -
it's not just their body heat that keeps me warm
but the way they keep their arms wide,
waiting for my embrace,
it's their hair in the morning
and their addiction to yeast,
their caring nature
and ability to make me feel safe
that make me feel content.
the way they laugh at their own jokes
and remain the sorest loser at any given game
gives me strength
for lighter days

unapologetically ourselves,
kiss me
shaun Jan 17
broken shoes on your feet, grief for a family that aren't dead - just dead to you - on your back and a book in your pocket. a book about a man you idolise. by that same man you idolise. his songs, his words, his honesty. a similar honesty that takes up the blank spaces in the notebook that resides in your other pocket. our griefs, though different, united us. yet while you begin to live, i start to die. again.
Next page