Why does your heart ache so?

He said.

Why so many tears?

He said.

I love you.

He said.


Love shone in your eyes once.

Flowers sprang up from your open hands;

warmth radiated after your touch;

caressed me like a silken treasure,

wrapped me gently in soft folds…

We made love like flaming embers,

until the dying light sugar-coated the cracks

running along the walls.

Your hands slipped through mine,

your lips lingered a breath away, always a breath too far…


Why must we return again, to this?

He said.

Don’t you know you are mine?

He said.


You pushed me back and held me under,

a deadly shadow of you sliding its fingers around my throat.

you wanted me

until

you didn’t.

beneath the surface of your gaze I saw things.

the dusty landscape of your skin,

the broken branches through your torso,

the glaze of your eyes as they rolled over me naked beneath you,

the tension giving you jagged edges,

the glass of your fingers scraping down my thighs.


I can’t be with you right now.

He said.

Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just got other things in my head.

He said.


I can feel the spots you’ve pressed,

on my skin.

An inky tattoo down my spine.

the pins and needles in my chest.

the heavy feeling of you not coming home.

where in the world did you go?

you speak in riddles, picking lies from between your teeth.

fragments of answers,

I can feel the cobwebs of where you no longer venture,

your door shuts on me.

I can feel my body go numb,

I can feel the blood collect in deep hollows,

I can feel time lose its pulse.


I’m sorry, but I think it’s for the best.

He said.

I don’t want to go, but I need to now. You need to believe me.

He said.


I should never have let you in.

sewing the cuts closed leaves me even

more

aware

of how

broken.

I truly am after your touch disappears.

forever.

fingers blistered,

stitches dripping blood.

bones thick and coarse under my skin.

half a beating heart

ticks

slowly by,

counting the hours

before

I

can

feel warm

again.

The morning she woke with dried tears
coating her eyes,
she looked up and found you hovering above;
a shade, dappled light,
smooth as leather and refined.
Within a blink you were gone,
a crease in the bedsheets.

The day was empty;
filled with warm aromas baked inside,
sweetened air and memory-soaked touches.
She longed for the hot flush of fire underneath her cheeks,
fiery yet ******* movements flooding her skin;
she longed for you to taste her.
She awaited the night to come, its smooth and delicate arcs
and twists,
she waited for your mouth.

The night rolled on, listless and dreamless,
stale and crisp;
tasteless and burnt on the tongue.
You didn’t appear.
She stayed up, bruised and worn,
the night a heavy weight dragging down her skin.

In the whisps of shadows curled over the bed,
you broke through and into her rigid arms.
She didn’t make a sound.
You smelt like her, her skin coated yours like sickly icing;
that secret lover nestled between your walls, your arms, yours legs.

You retreated, like a spooked horse in the woods,
falling on brambles and thorns you allowed her to grow.
The wet of her body, the heated blood still shows on you;
she can feel it. She can touch you and know where you have been.
Where you have lied.

You creep along the walls, foot before foot trending on borders,
on sacred and cursed ground.
She heard her moans, your grunts a muffled symphony,
your forgotten affections wasted on the
purchase of skin and want, like spoiled milk.

The early morning, before the peek of sun.
You stand on the road, the chill tearing at your back.
She clawed your face and hurled you out.
The day dawns and burns your eyes as you leave.
Never to be seen or heard from again.
What did you hope for?
Did you want two lovers? Two women fawning
beyond your eyes, dewy and tender and ripe and yours
to pillage and conquer?
 Lands to boast of, quests to complete?



The next day,
raw skin from hot water and perfumes a hazy
cloud around her form, she did her best to forget you.
She sat before the bed, in the cinders and ash of your feet;
she knelt down and raised her head.
Her eyes sparkled, kindled like new flame.
She was ready.
She cleared the battleground, and prepared.

For the days to come, before she would meet him;
the intoxication and the intensity she was ready to fall into.
Soon.
Surely.

Forever.

The power of light is a wonderfully

dangerous thing;

it requires two components to exist,

the light we wish to see by and the

object to be illuminated,

highlighted;

bathed in all its innate beauty

and all its jagged edges, sharp folds,

shadowed spaces and deep trenches.


what do you wish to see?

what hidden hollow can i show you?

are you prepared to face yourself?

are you prepared to live with what you see?

nothing can be unseen.

Can you stand the

words

sounds of agony,

hopelessness

fear

brutality of your own judgement

repetition of a disturbing truth in your ears,

self-pity

a truth you cannot speak for lack of words

abandonment

I can show you.


I see her twice; once in the daylight;

purposeful, electric lights bouncing radiantly from her soft

steps, forced bustle and grace in order to drown something ticking in her

head;

and at night, a quiet mess, a broken shell,

the light’s fingers can no longer grasp her, wrapped in the

sturdy oozing blackness encasing her cries.


In a small truth, you are beautiful.

you rise up from your falls, a phoenix given the warmth of fire.

yet that small cling-wrap of beauty compares little to the

coiled, twisting mass of loss you carry inside.

the hole you cry for others to fill,

the seething pain that keeps you from sleep,

the head that worries, the body that aches,

the heart that slows and the breathing that escalates,

when will someone be able to fix you?


there are two sides to every light.

this girl, she possesses those two.

a light she forces to shine, and the other that

burns

through her skin when she feels adrift, lost.

it’s a light that seeks, prods, not tentative but abrupt,

carving out her craters and ridges like nails in thick dirt,

it traces her hollows, her curves and angles

a light that shows everything she wishes to hide from you.

you

and your judging eyes,

you prowling like a wolf around her starving soul.

you, who seeks to remind her of her damage

you

who cannot accept her, how she wants to surrender to defeat.


I see it all.

I am blessed with the ability to discern such lights.

yours is frightening.

trembling body, tight in defence,

I pity you.

you shine such brilliant light, yet you can’t find it.

I told you to never look at yourself.

Mirrors are glass; glass breaks, the shards will pierce you every time.

you know how worthless you are, you know abandonment like no other,

do you need to see it again for yourself?

my voice drowns yours, I am the light you seek to conceal.

but I know you too well. I always will.


the light is too bright. too strong,

people must look away from the burning flame of her.

They risk themselves, being lost like her

and so they walk away, leaving scorch marks on her skin

from the places they’ve

touched, explored, caressed, and cut.

cuts,

scoring her broken heart

its easy for people to play with it in their cupped hands,

loose pieces of flesh still hoping to beat as one someday.

She knows that her light is blinding.

She tries to connect, to kindle a fire inside, some shield;

she gives over all of herself, every time,

holes and caverns forming,

from donated pieces of herself

that she can never have back,

given over to intangible forms of men

as real as dawn fog,

as greedy and lustful as ravenous wolves

all sweetness and smiles until her light burns

through them and they realise

she is too much to fix.


You look down and touch those empty spots.

They feel raw don’t they?

They bleed and weep as tears drip down

from your eyes.

You wish you could patch them up,

feel whole,

but the light is too bright for you to try.

Why must you give so much?

your heart remains fragmented,

half disappears

I can see that.

a dull ache is all you feel when the rest beats.

Is your beauty worth something then,

if you are lacking a full heart?


bundled in on herself,

she waits.

She hates the wait, the pauses;

heat crawling like waves along her skin,

stomach roiling

insides twisting,

head pounding,

she only waits for the light to burn down,

a candle out of wax,

but then she’ll have little left to offer.


What about love?

I know how much you crave it.

People hand it to, teasing you with your desires;

on golden platters dusted with pearls,

sugar and spice and all things nice.

‘I love you’ they whisper in your ear,

filling those cracks in your shell,

‘I love you’ and warmth sparks from a dark void

in your soul,

they make you believe something fake.

Make you fall under confidence, bending to temptation,

spikes of desire driven under your skin.

you yearn for more, you set fireworks sparking,

the heat together

…until he turns away from you.

He slides his fingers deep inside your

chest, and helps himself to his slice of you,

you don’t even feel a thing

before you cry.

it’s gone.


They leave her. That’s all there seemingly is.

Rocking alone, neglected, ignored,

shown love before it’s taken.

‘Will it ever change?’ she mouths to herself,

voiceless, breathless.


She lives with this emptiness. This cavity inside.

but in the end,

so do you.

Because you fail to see the energy and life light,

can only give birth to.

And that itself is beautiful.

Sombre shadows clawed the wall,

And swallowed each leaf the fell in fall;

With each step, his mind did wander;

Wrapping on the wooden door,

He stood upon the tiled floor,


This man was always gentle,

Not insensitive, not mental;

The shadow flickered on the wall;

Adoring and amiable,

This man was always capable;


A family, a wife and child,

Who loved him, not mild;

The shadow was a shroud;

Forever enclosed by art,

This choice wasn’t exactly smart;


He knew he had begun to fall,

A fall which left his shadow tall;

His mind, a suspended cloud;

His action, he couldn’t forgive

Himself, a life he shouldn’t live;


And with every painting hanging there,

He was reminded to beware;

Of ever present shapes on walls;

Of demons dead, and in the past,

However, this sighting was not the last;


A classic face, immersed in colour,

A detailed portrait of a brother;

The silhouette pictured on walls;

Painted eyes filled with sorrow,

Those eyes will never see a morrow;


What is written in that grave face?

Emotions bottled inside a case;

The shadow, trailed the walls,

A frightened brother, a dark shade

That truly the man had made;


His brother had seared in his mind,

This man was greatly far from kind;

A constant companion always near;

He paced the room, that gloomy room

Where that sinister face did loom;


A memory from a dream,

A flash, an overhead beam;

The brother murdered on walls;

The brother, was was the friend

The heart he truly did bend;


From behind an opened book,

He had spied his brother’s look;

Why is it that brother haunts me?

His friend’s wife, that divine girl,

Her dress spun in a whirl;


His love for the girl, shone like stars,

That man’s heart, shook against iron bars;

                      Does that ghost on walls, know I loved her?

The man couldn’t stand that sight no more,

The sight that shook him to the core;


“My brother, may I have a word?”

Leading him, to where they would not be heard;

On walls, hatred was behind that shadow;

             Inside that man, a cold heart, beat,

His heart pounding as he took his seat;


A glass poppy was soon thrown,

                  And so the horrid seed was sown;

Cries of fright, bounced off the walls;

            ‘the fearsome madman’, was his name,

‘******’, ‘Villain’, it was all the same;


Before he slid a knife, through

that brother’s centre of heart;

***********

Cursed anger! That took a friend,

A ceased heart he could not mend;

The shadow, spilling silent tears;

That horrible, hard-hearted heart,

This was how his nightmares start;


The thoughtless, unruly rage,

His anger became his just cage;

That ghost, that lingering shade;

His face now weary and lined,

His life a thread, he didn’t mind;


‘What should become of me?’ he said,

His voice said, deep inside his head;

Again, a brother on the walls;

There seemed nowhere else to turn,

A lesson, far too late to learn.

A cold lonesome night,

the streets a desert of garbage and secrets,

crumbling dreams twisting in the air,

grey concrete oceans,

humans upon humans;

locked in cabinets.


I lie shivering under your coiled figure.

Clothed yet icy to the touch.

Dark shapes slide along the ceiling, sinking slowly into the cracks and

stains;

you move.

you move closer, arms enclosing my waist, legs entwined around mine,

lips nestled against my neck, a quick bite, a breath

before you drift again to somewhere,

I can’t find.


I wonder what you see behind closed eyes,

I wonder how the shape of my body feels beside yours,

what do you notice?

I can’t sleep.

I can’t fall into an abyss beside you and not worry about waking from it.

your eyes open.

Your hands tracing down my spine, I feel you grind even closer,

almost trying to fit my mould, take over my being, come inside

like I’m the only warm spot in your bed.

You sleepily tease, expecting me to groan as i feel you glide up my thighs

but I can’t stand the pressure.

I feel your tongue over my shoulder blades

before you move off with

a muffled sigh

a disappointment crawling along the bed sheets.


Is this not what I thought I wanted?

to feel touch, to feel desire, to feel bodies linking;

the heat of attention, the fire of lust and adventure and power over you.


but it’s empty.

there is a jagged piece open in my chest.

I think it’s where my heart would be,

but you don’t help heal it

you only

rip

little

seams

apart

into a growing hole.

I thought I could use you to forget someone.

I thought I could feel again, the way I did in his arms,

swimming in his eyes.

I need his attention again, before I feel the loss,

the prickling sting,

the pain.

why do I crave such poison?


I bleed memories of you.

I feel them trail along the carpet as I drag myself

out of that man’s arms,

into the empty night.

I feel you walk alongside me,

but you keep

falling behind.

I turn and you fade.

like you never existed at all.

And I feel the sickness climb my throat,

I feel my legs shake;

heart beat throb rolling in my ears.

why have you left me for dead?


Why are you so cold?

Do you feel?

I kiss you and you hide.

I hold you and you twist away like I’m

hurting you.

Frigid.

Icy.

Void and broken.


I have this disease coursing through my bloodstream.

there is no cure.

and It’s you.

you circulate through me, causing all kinds of hurt.

You are part of me, just like i’m the shadow you see in the evenings,

and the shadow that hunts you at dawn. The shadow of the person you

long to feel against your

skin again.

We will never lose each other.

perhaps one day I’ll be able to bottle you.

bleed myself dry and place you on a shelf, a pedestal.

but for now you stay.


Stay.

because I know I can’t live without your curse bundled tight inside me.

Stay.

because if you walked away again where would you leave me?