It was an unknowing spot
In the fight between good and evil
As many such places are
The walls won’t keep you safe
Or protect you
There are no talismans at work
The humours
Swirl

One night upon descending the stairs
My heel
Caught my hem
My hands both full
A cigarette in one and wine in the other
I began to fall
It would have been a tumble
I was leaning severely to the left
No balance likely
one foot in the air
Going nowhere good

At the foot of the stairs
Yes
There was a dreadful man
His arms opening wide
His legs spread
Ready to catch my calamity
I tried to prepare
An impossibility about to occur
And how would it end?
Me on the floor, wine stained and puddled
In the arms of


And yet
I felt a push on my side
Straightening me out
Pushing me over
Up and down
Tip top
I lowered my foot, set free by my dress
And with both hands still fully occupied
Stepped down the stairs in quiet saucy triumph
He was awful
That night I knew that there were indeed angels.

As for evil and
Stairs
Years later the winds began to change
I sat above on the second floor with
a wine glass and a full bladder
I decided it’s time
Watch your step
I was slow
Cautious
Looking straight into the darkness
And despite just two steps down
total
I fell

The arc of red wine
Flew across the gallery hitting the north wall
Already hung
Yes wine on the wall
Between the paintings
Me on the floor
But the glass still in hand

I began to think
That there is something here.
Unseen.
Something’s around.

he haunts me to this very day
as has always been his cruel way—
joy and laughter, tears and sorrow,
hopes of him and i for tomorrow.
memories of him near drive me mad,
and yet, for this torture i am quite glad,
for even in thoughts and dreams,
i long to see and fix the broken seams.
i wish he’d stop, i wish he’d not,
i wish he doesn’t forget what can be forgot.
he haunts me to this very day,
come, i say, come my way!
don’t leave, never do—
and i shan’t stop loving you.

SOLD
my heart to the first bidder
hope they ease the pain and make it less bitter

SOLD
my soul to the devil himself
in this world of misery he grants eternal wealth

SOLD
my love to the moon and the stars
when night falls they take me places near yet far

SOLD
my courage to the leader of fear
anxiety is a demon i've made friends with, my dear

SOLD
my beauty to the black mirror
she shows me my selfish self so much clearer

SOLD
my body to the man with dark eyes
let him ****** me with his dreamy web of lies

SOLD
my happiness to the depression
let my mind be enveloped by blackness each session

they said i could be whatever i wanted
but how is that true when i am still haunted
the ghosts of who i used to be
prey on my aura without mercy

I fell apart today.
The anchor from which I'd cut away
suddenly reattached, twice as heavy as it had been before.
And I was completely imprisoned,
a heavy weight pulling down on my weary heart.
Like a silent film it hit me,
in jerky flashing, singular grey images;
indiscernible but sad.
A birthday cake.
Shiny smiles reflected from
clear cool sandy beaches.
Warm, cuddles after Christmas dinner.
And these ghosts of us haunt me always
down every familiar street,
every memory, every story, every jewel
adorning the crown that is my life
is haunted with ghosts of us.
Not the us limping, and wounded, and beaten by life,
holding on to those beautiful images.
Eyesight fading, changing at least.
No, the wide-eyed kids who became one that first night
and ignited a fire that burned,
for a quarter century.
A beautiful, perfect, copy-read family.
Nobody forgetting their lines.
And one day I reached out to touch you
And your skin felt cold.   Still soft, but cold.
And I knew immediately that I need to cling
to those beautiful images.
And capture new ones,
sharper and more vibrant
with years of progress, and learning.
Loving and gentle with the images of the past
but steady and strong
against the unforgiving winds of time
from  every direction.
“We built her strong”,
I tell myself.
"We sure ******* did"
Perhaps, we built her too strong
She’ll never sink,
but she’s not fit to sail.
Leave her where she is, to the salt,
and the sea,
and the rust, the ******* rust.
The anchor, still fastened tightly
but choking my heart no more.
Instead holding me fast,
against the current, and the winds,
and the ghosts of us that haunt me
each and every day.

The green light has frozen over.

See that haunted house,
how its windows
flicker desperately
in their attempt at survival,
how every lampshade droops
under the sublime gravity
of its glassy tears,
how each blackened bulb
crystallizes then shatters
like the constellation-mottled
pupils of the starry-eyed--
of any
optimist
dreamer
lover
bright-young-thing.

Nomadic phantoms float along
the pin-***** stalagmites
of the ceiling in ringlets of
emerald shadow.

Surely,
dawn will break,
(unconventionally.
tragically.)
The sun itself shall bow to ruin;
and, in a remarkably quiet gesture,
it will fizzle out
like a can of cherry cola
that's gone stale,
like humanity's own taste
for the light
(and its growing appetite
for the darkness).

Still,
we drink on--
in wait of the rush,
indulging in the hope
that somewhere
in this dying
expanse of universe,
there is someone
who will love us
for the tipsy,
poetic souls we are.

"Moving is like dying"
Empty pasts haunt
the reborn body.
Minds collapse and form
new beautiful butterflies.
The more moving,
the more broken wings.
The butterflies stop flying
and start crying.
The hottest tears
for all the years.
The future becomes terrifying.

His eyes start to eat me up from the inside out
Hands demanding my body
This is the first time I think of my body as an object of pleasure
Still, I don't class it as *** or the R word
Just predation
A sense of redemption for his masculinity
Memories of his actions follow me
Haunt me
My flesh has since arranged itself differently
Forming a cloud around a central object
Which is hard and more real than I would like it to be
The recklessness of his actions means that
My husbands touch can now scare me
Remind me of the time I felt like a means to an end
Remind me of the time I lost my glow and will