i visited my parents house yesterday
it had changed so much since i had lived there last
no more room for feelings of nostalgia
it didn't remind me of christmas mornings
or bring to life the photographs of birthday cakes and smiles

at dinner monotonous conversation led me away upstairs
expecting nothing i decided to visit my old room
walking up the narrow stairs i felt your presence with me

two summers ago we lived here, never leaving
we were burnt from the inside out with love and cigarettes
burnt from the outside in by the sun
cascading through the ceiling window
i saw the sun rays fall on your eye lashes;
thought to myself this is why it rises every morning
just to touch something beautiful
i thought of how we never left each other
built my life around you
a life that didn't seem to exist outside my bedroom walls

it made me feel uncomfortable
after a week of forgetting i was remembering again
the cliche of wondering what you were doing
turning to leave i saw it
my ugly younger self's handwriting
where i had written your name on the wall above my bed
memories came back like flashing images in my minds eye
writing your name on the wall one night
you were smiling and laughing
asking if my dad would mind, i said i didn't care
since then my bedroom does not look like my bedroom, our bedroom

your name is still visible over the thick layer of gone-off white paint
as i leave i hope to myself that your name will not be visible
through the layer of hate, regret and disappointment
i've used to paint over your memories inside the walls of my mind

feeling tired and uninspired
i find myself being more in love
with characters from books
than i ever was with you.

it's october
it's early in the morning, too early to be awake
she tells me it's the afternoon and gives me a disappointed look
she sits beside me as i lie behind her
my sunken red eyes look past
i'm thinking about how sweet her voice sounds when she sings
but she interrupts me
'who hurt you? who hurt you so badly?'
she can hit them high notes, i love her falsetto, her chest voice,
her soft hands, her cups of tea -
she cuts my train of thought as she stands over me
the tsunami hits as she speaks:
'i won't ever leave you'
ironically she gets up and she leaves the room
and me, not moving, lying there
i think of her.

her voice was beautiful when she spoke
she couldn't sing but i loved it when she did
her cups of tea were my favourite
she had these personal looks; they were only for me
she hated wearing her hair up but i loved it so
when i was sad she would pin it up for me
she'd sleep in so late every morning i wouldn't care
i would watch for hours as her eyes moved in her sleep
she gave the most perfect forehead kisses
and she smiled a smile that could ******* cure cancer
when you laid them on her own forehead, her nose, her cheek
she loved me
s h e  l o v e d  m e
but she left me and she hurt me

a diet of coffee and cigarettes
and the consuming realisation
that i was no good for you at all

When I fall asleep my eyes meet yours.

i want to write you poems until my hand falls off
i often wonder if you read them would you come back?
would each sentence, word, letter, that your eyes glaze over
light up - would you remember how it felt?

i told you so many times that nobody can ever love you as much as i do
and if you ever find someone who claims they do
bring them to me
lay them down before me
knowing that they will never get back up

there is a sunset in four hours
yours is the only hand i will ever hold
walking in it's direction
so call me, text me, bump into me
scream at me, grab me, slap me, burn me
just come back to me