and you
you standing there like the goddess
Aphrodite of Knidos
drawing the softest curves amidst lines that make my heart yearn
for even she
murmured

'where thou saw me naked?'

you rest
effortless
making man fall between your marble curves
a beauty holding centuries of thought and attempts to simply possess

you stand

free against the attempts of man
their meddling fingers so often confusing the way your hips dipped and your ******* crest

shattering all ideas of beauty in the way you smiled at me
between whispers of curtains

and idolatry

I wish I hadn't wasted
the moments I ached for his hands around me
or the tickle of laughter
clawing at my throat
oh what I would have done
if his fingers
weren't riddled with ink
stamping my skin
till it was trademarked
and no longer mine

my darling, tell me
did you think your dismissal of my devotion would create the landslide of consciousness that would sweep me under?
did you honestly think, my endearing Peitho
that i would stumble?
like a drunk lost in memories of the past
drowning in the waters of murky dreams and empty promises
clawing and clammering to the foot of your obsidian base
to ask for tuppenece of your abject admiration

did you think i uttered 'too soon' under my breath when you walked through the doors in a Kermes gown to be the muse to all
beckoning the second movement of a symphony
drawing your audience in
that such suitors could claim you with mere words
before unleashing your cacophony of destruction
like you did for Cassandra

while you may have, incarnadine Peitho
the adoration of all
those that caught the taste of crimson across their tongue
when their drunken hands where so foundly engraved by your obsdian base
marred beyond admiration
knows what your persuasion
tastes like

But would you burn for me
like i burned for you
or could you only smoke
so everyone thought we had wildfires
but it was only me being razed to the ground
while you stand there

ready to smoke for another

Two coffees.

One heart.

Two grins.

One whisper.

Two moans.

One sob.

Two rings.

One bottle of scotch.

Two coffees.

As my eyes break and sunlight pours in
My fingers stretch
Reaching
Crawling towards a warmth and presence that is absent
So they still
And the vessel that is me snaps into routine and continues the day

And when my eyes slide shut and moonlight peters out
My fingers again stretch
Reaching
Craving the feel of his skin under mine
So they rest
And I finally sleep; till sunlight pours in and my fingers go
Reaching

when I would dream
of the days to come
I never once pictured myself
really detailed
in the imagery

until now
where the details in the creases on my eyes
are plain to see
from where you kept me smiling
for all to see

I wish more people talked about
the paradise
to be found wrapped in the arms of a lover
embraced by the warmth of sunshine
and caressed by an afternoon of snuggles

some nights
you don’t sleep so tight
you relax into sleep
into me, into peace
and some nights
you shudder
and mutter
occasionally
some nights
you grasp me tighter
and others you seem afraid to touch
but a few nights
you settle
snoring like the ocean
and I sigh in unison
Knowing this night was peace

A mirror is the the truth in a  reflection of the people we truly are.

A reflection does not let you keep it hidden, nor let you hide it.

For this very reason, she wore only mirrors. For nobody could look at her, they were directed towards themselves.

She was society.

he loved me like the stars were inconsequential that night.
Like the only thing worth time was studying the way my lips moved and my laugh bellowed

I wanted to whisper through time to the little one running through the halls watching her parents have a water fight through the house; “you’ll find one too”.

Rain patters
It spatters
And sputters

it hits the ground with a welcoming groan

The earth
It parts
And makes a home for the rain

Because for even a moment the long lost lovers embrace before being separated once more

It was in the way you looked at me
across the room
like it would only take a second
for this busy room
to stop
and have those clothes drop
with no complaints from me

I loved it for the way it was
not for what you wanted it to be

I shouldn't have fallen in love with my angel. When I run my fingers through his chocolate caramel curls, I sliced my hand on his halo. He was too sharp and too beautiful.

I shouldn't have touched him, but his eyes. Oh his eyes.
His eyes were all and no colours. He touched my bleeding hand and mended it with a kiss. And when he flew away I couldn't take a hint. I was too stubborn for my angels love. His fury and essence destroyed me, in such a beautiful way.

When he came back after months of my endless screams, new scars were etched  and badly bandaged on his golden skin. when I realized I'd fallen in love for an angel...

Oh darling I wanted to fly.

someone told me it was fate
that your name was the echo to
my tangled daisy chain dreams
so I laughed
nodding along like your name wasn’t seared into my every atom
every fixture, ligament, lung
nodding along like the second I saw your face
Every other flower became obsolete
no longer wanting roses
But daisy chain dreams

I wonder what his thoughts were
when he made the decision to look back to check
was it out of concern
or curiousity?
Was it an unconscious look?
Or simply a moment to defy Hades?
I want to know what the music sounded like
Was it light
Or heavy
Purple or crimson or a periwinkle blue?

Did she wail or make no noise?
Did you?

Did you reach out to touch her
Or needed to see what the texture of her fingertips were connected to?

Or did she, lovely Orpheus, call out to you?

What is more torturous than knowing the art
seeing the velvet lust filled crimson
The midnight where she touched your hand blue
And resting without movement
Because you couldn’t pick the right medium

it was simply
silent
Something never before touched
hearing the pitter without echoes on your skin
but not deafening
without millions of howls
not crippling
without thousands of demands
it was simply
walks along the sand with nothing to hear
but his heartbeat
and my own
except I was doing laundry
and the waves were simply constructed

I would say ecstasy but that’s the wrong prescription

the acknowledgement of needing more
has a cavern
with depth like grief
and vastness like fear
and stepping outside the door of lacklustre
is terrifying
but the peace of more reaches further than the deep and vast cavern could ever stretch to

Lines
    dropping
from head to toe

you watch

As my fingers
   Trace
from my neck to my left hip

dropping through a valley which releases a moan

Breath
   catching
As you watch
             happily

as i touch your favourite work of art

it’s funny
how every once and a while
it will
creep
back into your periphery
like a shadow you forgot existed
Because the light was so bright it couldn’t be seen
but every now and then
when it’s time to lay my head down
it creeps
back into the sheets
into the wind
as you turn
restless
waiting for the sun to come up
so that it sneaks and
creeps away

Did you want her to look like me?
Or we’re you just wanting something that was
comfortable

And in the early morning
I lie awake
Watching
As the sunlight dances across his back and his breath becomes the undertones to my heartbeat.

It is then
In this early morning
Where the world has paused, still in frozen slumber
That I know

I love him.

Fetch my love
Please bring it round the bend
Sometimes it gets lost, every now and again
Tell it to me slow
Just this once more
Fetch me my love
Ah,
she shan’t be taken no more

The flame licks at my toes
Prancing
Daring me to come closer
If only for a taste

Just like you
When your eyebrow raises
Where no words are spoken
But a conversation continues

And as fingertips graze
Grins become growls
And giggles turn to groans

Where gasps become grabs
And grabs become tugs

Where I love you’s are I want you’s
And I need you’s are demands

No longer are eyebrows raised
No words remain spoken

Just fire and flames
Daring us to come closer
As we taste some more

I rest
But do I rest?

Because is my resting dictated by my physical form holding a stationary position.
or
is it culminated into the sigh of relief as my head hits your chest and your arms squeeze around me?

In that place.
I rest

Sunlight trickles through the blinds
And I am enveloped
In his scent
In his touch
In his sound
And I am content
To lay here
For the rest of my life
With sunlight
Trickling into the darkness
And his hand
holding mine

There comes a moment
Where my fingertips
Can reach
No further
And
My toes
Can reach
Across the bed
No farther in your place

So I
must stay
Laying here
Where I
Can’t reach

The distance
to you

Here I sit
To write
and while the clouds move
The clock chimes
And I sit here
Still trying to write of you

The fan whirls while the room rests in silence
That sound used to bug me.
The silence

It felt deafening
Too overwhelming and uncontrollable to be enjoyed
It was relentless
And I hated it

I think
Because it scared me
Because silence is lonely

To be alone is one thing
There can be noise all around you
But to be lonely is another

But
Today I sat in the silence while my fan whirled around the room
And as I watched you slumber

I enjoyed the silence
It was the ambiance to the sunlight kissing your cheek
The silence will always be uncontrollable, relentless, and overwhelming.
But, those are the things I love about you too.

So I sat
As the fan whirled while the rest of the room sits in silence
And the sound bugs me no longer.

“at last, “
Etta James sings
as I crawl into blankets once more
tears
at last.

while the pitter patter draws out
Slowly
as if on a classic music box
I wait for the notes to be struck
Where I hear the door open
Lights flicking with shoes scuffing
But the pitter patter continues
without pause
and I’m left
waiting for notes that were not created
for you to walk in the door

Most days I dislike the chime of the clock
It reminds me time flies away

But today I like the chime of the clock
It reminds me that I’ve had one more moment with you.

as the room is shaking with the sounds of laughter
full of all the people
all the things
all the excitement of new experiences
all I can do is giggle
fully aware that no one knows what each of us actually is doing
as we venture into the world

but we each know
we are not alone

Of all the colours
Between the deep ocean
And vast sky
Your eyes shall remain my favourite pairing

I wanted to say something poetic.
to capture the sheer depth of emotion brought forth by that goose
I wanted to evoke the pleading in his first note
to hear the panic in the second
I wanted to let you feel the hope
to push towards the potential of having a reply
I wanted to tell you his lonliness
to hear his cry.

Some to appreciate beauty must see the best of the best
the immeasurable
the greatest heights
The treasure of all men
something to covet and keep hidden

And some
my dearest
can glimpse perfection
in raindrops
and dandelions
or his smile as the dawn breaks

please
god please
come trace my collar with you lips and my freckles with you fingertips
because i miss the way you laughed along my neck
down that little indent in my palm
i want you to whisper to me
all we didn't get to say
as the night turns into the softest dawn

Please tell me why the scotch
Swirling around the glass
Stokes the fires in my soul
As it swirls playfully along my tongue
To incite the words brushing against the smoke as it leaves my breath

Till the glass is empty
and fires go cold

it’s not even just sleep with you.
It’s waking up to you.
It’s feeling your fingertips against my hip
It’s the safety in the middle of the night
Knowing that the monsters under the bed
simply cannot hold space
under the bed we broke
and made our own

I’ve stopped looking at you in wonder
not because you aren’t wondrous
but because I no longer see us as too good to be true
I don’t know when it happened
Or how
But I know while you rest this afternoon with hands on my limbs
I can feel the dust settling on a midsummer dream
and while the dream remains light, wondrous and new
The home I made with you
Was built slowly through slow dances and arguments and patience
Built by long conversations and silent smiles
Home with you
isn’t wondrous, it’s a cup of tea after a long day
Home with you is a choice
and I chose you

the connotation wrapped around the word
constantly squeezing before comforting
It just always suffocated for me
Because for every cemented idea and every concrete plan that was built up around me I felt I had been forced to settle.
To settle into others plans, hopes, goals, and desires. I felt forced to settle into an imaginary ring.

I never thought I could choose to settle. Till I chose to settle into your arms. I chose to settle into the late night conversations where eyes flicked as children were whispered. I chose to settle within the open plains that wrapped the distance of your heart to mine. I chose to settle into laughter with you. I chose to settle for my happiness that grew every single time you expanded room for me.

I chose to settle. instead of being settled.

I chose to settle, settle around you.

Friends after work
Sipping Bellini cocktails
swapping the drinks and tales
Some are better than others
As glasses sit empty

it is in the moments where we want to scream
and yell
and wander the streets like a madwoman
screaming your declarations for the world to know
but instead
we must sit in silence
and stare at the wall
acknowledging paint flecks
like Siken said
laughing till you feel no more

I am sick of this
beige
of the way it sits against my chest
so that I cannot feel
too much
or even too little

I would tell time to come here so that I may dine her, in hopes to speed up the process. but she is late for our dinner once more.

And so I sit, holding a beige cup, with a beige sweater, in a beige room. Hoping it’ll ever turn transparent, so I may start again.

Nothing is more frustrating
Than watching the words
Sit
On the edge of your tongue
As you stumble and mutter around them
They scratch their heads at you
and you wonder why the words remain
Stagnant
On the edge of your tongue
Rather than telling
How it actually was

the way he held her
without worry
without concern
made her soul ache

how had his knuckles
fingertips
and calluses

could hold everything that had been breaking
slipping through her grasp

like the shadows could see that his knuckles
were warning enough

as she held the brush in her hand
at 3am
with nothing but candlelight to illuminate her tears
she found home
in the satisfaction of the strokes of her brush
the ease of the colours
splaying
as she burned alive
at the sight before her