Do not believe
any words
of someone
who writes;

it stops
the moment
they put down the pens
the moment the ink dries.

You have an amazing heart,
which is both a blessing and curse.

I was five,
the last time
I combed my hair
I was always messy
always leaving it - casually

You, however
love dolls like the
one your mum bought
for your birthday

how you combed her hair
for every reason
you wanted a daughter,
so that when she grows,
her hair,
will form plaits
will weave
through the union of your fingers

But for now,
my hands have grown
accustomed combing
your thick black hair -
I mistook
for my child's

Now that you're gone
I comb my own
imagining its yours
all back to five.

I wasn't that
perfectly chilled
bottle of wine
that moist your lips;

I was brewed to
kiss your drunken stupor
in between your sighs,
in between your frowns

And I was only meant
for all the hung-overs,
you never count.

Don't believe any single word
that has fallen off
A women's lip
that is shaped
like a moon.

it was high up above
and my feet dangling
off the edge
from where I sat
in between the flashes
of your arms and thighs
i caught off balance
and i felt i was walking
levitating and glorious
the last time i saw your eyes
and you walked out that door
i was brave and you were my
heroine but now i am addicted
and you are washing away
like the ebb and flow
of the waves that i drown
my carcass in.

if
the ocean
can calm itself,
so can you.
we
are both
salt water
mixed with
air.