Everyone talks about passion as if they know her.
But passion is my closest friend.
Passion is the fire that burns behind her eyes, the cigarette perishing between her lips.
Passion is the way my mouth feels against her chest, the breathy moan as my fingers grab her hips
Everyone says she is intense, but all I can think is how much there’s left to learn
Because passion knows what it feels like to burn out.
She lights fires in dangerous places and has more scorch marks than she has friends
Shes so calm and gentle yet never condescends
Passion is convalescence, her voice heals more than it bites
She holds my hand in the day time and holds me tighter in the nights.
Passion is pulling her closer at 1am because she smells like hope.
And nobody talks about hope as if they know her.
Passion is manipulated, overlooked and exploited
Everyone talks about passion as if they know her.
But nobody talks about passion as if they deserve her.

If love is a galaxy
Then our friendship is a star
Your fingertips trace the constellations onto my shoulder
And send shivers down my spine.
Sparks fly like shooting stars
And supernovas flash within your eyes
Your tongue crashes against mine, a meteor against earth
Your body is cosmic,
Your body is cosmic and finally I understand
Why black holes are so damaging
And why people stargaze on cloudy nights

In the attic of my childhood home lives a box labelled pandora
Its worn out cardboards sealed with tape
And the dust forms a bad aura
For eight whole years it’s lay untouched
Only poked at from a distance
It’s grimy contents full of hate
Yet the reason for my existence

Your whole body lay trembling
Under the darkened skies
Briefly your eyes met mine
I wondered if I’d ever seen anything so beautiful
You smiled as a wave passed through you
Your fingertips dug into my shoulders
And your hips ****** beneath the touch of my hand
Constellations couldn’t compare to the stories your moans tell
Toes curl and thighs tense
My hand wraps around your throat
And your eyes roll back
“Be a good girl and *** for me”

Yesterday
I choked and cried as I brushed my teeth.
This morning I spat blood into the sink because I’d flossed my gums too hard
The taste made me nostalgic
As I scrubbed with disregard
For any pain or blood or damage
That my neurosis may just cause
I’d bathe in straight up acid
Just to put these thoughts on pause.
I washed my hands 147 times today
But bleached them only twice
My fingers are still burning
After that neurotic sacrifice
And I’d scour my wrists with steel wool
If it would only make me clean
Submerge my face in lava
And wash my hair with gasoline.
So I’ll write this down with hopefulness
As I sanitise my skin
That cleanliness will help me sleep
And feel less grimy from within.
I brushed my teeth until I bled today
Soaked my hands in hydrogen peroxide
Scrubbed my body with a Brillo pad
But I’m ******* never satisfied.
I still feel *****
I always feel *****.

My body is a hand me down, my ***** second hand
I’ve never really owned my own mind, flesh or land
From birth I was an item, that his ring all passed around
By the time I was a toddler, I’d learned not to make a sound
Never the player, but a chess piece for him to use
Never his daughter, just an unwilling child to abuse
My body doesn’t belong to me, because he owned it all
Beaten, ***** and tortured before I could ******* crawl
The physical reminders, weigh heavy on my heart
So tempted to just end it all, at least then I could restart
So if I cut, burn or bite and leave marks upon my skin
Then my body is no longer his, and then I ******* win
My body is a hand me down, my ***** second hand
I really want to **** myself, I think he’d understand.

My body is slow
My body is the soft breeze on a summers day
My body is the sound of a fireplace cracking when the cold winter bites
My hands are the roots of a tree
The crack of lightening thunders through my bones
My body is sick
My body is the after *** cigarette, so bitter on your sweet lips
My body is the smell of home after weeks without it
My eyes are the stars reflecting stories of gods
The tales resonate through me, I am Zeus
My body is fat
My body is the deep rumble of an old train engine
My body is the shouts of a street market in the Middle East
My voice is the crashing of waves over a forgotten ship
The salt rots the wood within my core
My body is ugly
My body is the rush of warmth after a hot tea
My body is the crunch of leaves under autumnal boots
My skin is the scorching sand on a foreign beach
The sun radiates on my pelt and burns into my flesh
My body is mine
You ruined it
But my body is mine

I’ll burn the constellations
Onto the lids before my eyes
So every time I fall asleep
I’ve got a clear view of the skies
I’ll plant a row of roses
In the lining of my heart
So every time I think of you
The petals spread apart
I’ll drop a heap of glitter
Upon my messy hair
So every time it’s storms outside
You’ll see it dancing in the air
I’ll build a church within my lungs
Let my air sit on a pew
So every time you hear me sigh
You’ll know I breathe for you

I do not fear the world ending
I don’t quiver at the thought of being engulfed by flames
I’m not afraid of drowning in a sea of blood
Or of my blood flowing freely into the ocean.
I never think of asteroids plummeting to earth
Or wonder what lies ahead for us after death.
I won’t think of angels or demons or gods alike
I do not fear the world ending
Because my world ended when he wrecked me.

She has the power to crumble mountains in her wake
And yet she brings flowers back to life with her delicate kiss.
Her body moves with grace through air that could rip the very skin from your bones
Whilst her fingers stay nimble, tangled so intricately within the pelt of the earth.
Waves crash within her eyes but her gaze casts oceans asunder
And she dances, dances in the flames that birthed this very existence
Dances through the trees that give life to those who are lucky.
And my god are we lucky to encounter her.