something I’ve learnt

and maybe grieved along the way

is striving to be something

is so very different

from wanting to want to be something

that requires you to love

and god just to try

more than you fear

and I watched you close that door

over

and over

before I decided to finally walk away

why must we chose
to pick up the shield
of weighted fear and cemented caution
caged in what if laced around comfort
or
to wield the open palm
where everything could land
and rest in a cozy embrace
or be brushed away
with nothing but a whisper

human beings were made to be touched
softly
with such devotion and reverence
and maybe a little awe
tracing the littlest scrapes
scars & freckles
like the shrines of every idol
to worship at the throne of messy hair
and drums of heartbeats
synced to a choir I only hear
when they say my name

She asked me if I could see you one more time, what would I do?
and I don't know if I would have done anything.
Other than move things around the house
to hear heavy footsteps
and the occasional grumble.
maybe put on a bit of AC/DC to see that head bobble
or even shift shoes around just to hear your frustration.
cause god would I love to hear you laugh

hear what you thought about today anyways
and exasperatedly sigh into the phone
and hang up with okays and call again 5 minutes later
cause only we got that it didn't matter

she asked me what I would do
and I probably would hug you
to remind you are not alone

before winding down with a scotch
talking into the wee hours
to hear every single thought
and know why you set your tools that way

so I could keep it
and explain the same to my own kids
someday

I’m stuck

Between hating the love stories where they didn’t fit but “love overcame it anyways”

because why did we play with the pieces that couldn’t fit together and pretend it didn’t matter

avoiding conversations like they were distant future things, intangible, and uncondensable

and as I sit here, rooting through the leftovers of my processing
I know my grief simply overshadows the joy for a moment
Holding space for the lost piece of me, I am happy, and honoured you get to hold.

but grieving her nonetheless.

So I’m stuck

pretending like I won’t always, on some level, be trying to put the pieces together

cause  “love overcame it anyways”

I scrubbed or at least tried to
every layer of skin he touched or weirdly rubbed
scrapping my lips into the colour they used to be when you kissed me
and I sat in the bathtub
having scrapped my tongue to a lovely red
knowing it wouldn’t have happened if I was with you
but I’m not yours anymore, am i?

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

you were nothing you told me you’d be
but everything you showed me

and boy did I have my eyes closed

in moments like this, i wonder
should i say thank you?
or scowl at my own tongue
because why must you be 'thanked'

for finding the beauty in the way a masterpiece i did not create became encased and enclosed around me? a heartbreaking masterpiece my soul hides behind.

but darling, really.

must i thank you?

dare I thank you for noticing

the way my hips flow like new streams
making their own path to once again embrace. finding themselves through pure instinct.

should i say thank you?

for seeing the same desire in me that Venus possessed in the arms of passion, the same ones lost to history we so seek to be held by?

or may i say thank you.

thank you for guiding me up the stairs that never end, winding along as I am, so that I may be, all that I am. Thank you for blindly reaching into the dark and choosing to love all that you touch...

even Eros would have loved you.

As your willful blindness and seeking touch brought me to the final step, so that I may say

thank you.

it is in the lull
where the littlest of toes
starts to inch away
as if it will finally meet its partner
that does not reside
on this side of the mattress
or really this mattress itself

for it is the silence that await the musical score
that always starts with how you breathe while slumbering
and the pillows themselves
seem to ache
etched in stone like medusa herself
petrified their forms as if you laid against them
edging her on

maybe it is the silence
that is petrified
you will not return
it simply misses its partnered limbs
and evening symphonies

I found my favourite jumpsuit
and i got a new shade of lipstick

doing my hair differently
in a way that makes me smile brighter

and I’ll entice a dance or two

who’ll let me be spun around
till I finally nail it

and I’ll buy them a drink — because they helped make me burn a little brighter

each day at a time

if I take anything
to my grave
whether it be shallow
or deep
let it be
that I was loved
the way I asked to be loved

I want to watch you love
not me
I want to see the day where you take out the trash  
the day where you start humming again
I want to see the day again where you tell them 'no'
and you sit in with something cold
my darling
I want to see the day where you are soaked in sweat, but grinning ear to ear
the day where you stay out till midnight, but come home happy knowing the steps to get there
my dear
I yearn for the day when you grasp that rusty watering can
and fill it up
eagerly awaiting the skips and jumps left
for the seeds to be watered
and for you to flower

as kingdoms have been erected
and as empires have crumbled
not once
did proposals
such declarations from the heart
become more important
than the quiet pleas
of the soul
cradling itself
within the etches of time and callused palms
waiting permission
asking
if they may give themselves to the other
in the only form it knows

I miss the way your chest rose against my fingertips
Like an ocean beating across the shore.

The tide doesn’t come in, no more

You make me feel
Like the bottom of a wave
The richest of colours
The deepest of greens

you seek me out with careless abandon
or simply the determination of a knight
Unafraid to back down

from the little woman
Peeking around the willows
Dripping in her lake

You pause with awe and wonder
like you could see every moment that made this second, to get here, worth it


As a little grin traces my face
and I pull you in
and you sink
as I drag you under
blissfully
unaware

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

there is something in hozier's voice
that makes me want to scrabble
to crawl
to beg
to etch my elbows with sticks and stones
leaving blood for breadcrumbs
for the scraps of reverb
and echoes of strings

When we discuss love
We don’t tend to talk
about the way it creeps up on you.

how it went from trying to remember your brother’s names to “will they be coming too?”

It starts the same, but just a little different. There’s just that little more fun. That smile that creases around your eyes that little bit more.

And while moments are exhilarating and freeing, we still hold back slightly.

Till that moment.

Hit like lightning. Realizing all you’ve ever wanted is sitting in front of you with their knees tucked up gazing at a movie you knew they’d like.

But the way the lightning crackles inside you, reverberating through every cell to let you know the depth of this realization and the fizzle of lichtenberg figures as that love is etched into your skin.

It’s seeing the bits of life that are trivial, but looking forward to every second because it’s with them.

And it’s knowing they could walk away at any second.
But knowing it’ll be okay.
Because you’ll have gotten to experience, that one of a kind struck by lightning moment.
and proudly carry those scars for the rest of your days.

as rascal serenades me
of a back to life kinda love
I can't help but giggle

because I know

I only want his hips against my own
with dishcloths in our hands
and sockless feet **** tat tat ing on the floor
with tired eyes and laughter in our throats

because I know

I was lucky enough
to get a glimpse of the kinda love

rascal wanted of life

she isn't with me, and im going to do something about that now.

words will never do you justice  
Because words cannot let you taste the way
the water from your back
only made me thirstier.
the way your shoulders smell like home,
a home of campfire, grease, ***, and rain
words cannot let you see the way
you cocked your head at me
with all the gears and wheels turning
to finally lay me down
words cannot express
How you pushed and pulled me
to grow a little more
words cannot let you hear the rustle of the sheets and the sound of you breathing
mixed with your heartbeat and the wind outside
a whisper against your ear
words only let me tell you of a moment
without letting you live it

I flipped through the pages
I sipped the good tea
I wandered the halls a bit more
just so they’ll see

I waited at the tables
I used the spoon
I gave them a good one

maybe then I’ll say goodbye

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.

it is just
so exhausting
to finally put the masks on the table
only to realize
you have to put them back on
in a way that you can still tell it’s me
just
without seeing me

I like the way your name feels
dragged across the nape of my neck
leaving streaks of you to be remembered by

But I prefer the way you kiss me
down the embers of being
and the crease of my spine

for all the songs that speak of lovers bathed in the whispers of moonlight or wrapped in the sheets of sunshine
the glimpses of your eyes
will be whispered across generations
regarding that lover of mine

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.

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

those nights
where you just know
like an addict
you’re itching
stretching out fingertips
heart aching
hoping maybe for a stimulant
or just a numb
whatever’s closest
but my hands stay against my sides
tucked
because
you know the itch is far more satisfying
than anything in arms reach

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

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

please, once more:

how do you explain
the way the trembles in their voices
created tremors across your skin
the same way his laughter could vibrate along your skin

how do I explain the way I can feel the resounding crack without seeing or hearing it
the echoes of pressure
the webbing pain exploding outwards

to explain the way the whisps of echoed fingertips cause the little death across my skin
rumbling like the quakes
between my bones
where the music resides

below the sorrow carved into the words
and freedom vibrating across the stone of terror
against the limestone of cruelty
and the sandstone of humour

rests the quartz of desire
obsidian of regret
and

she put the pen down and walked away

you wanted me to grieve for you
you wanted me to baulk and mewl
you wanted me to scream and pitch a fight
you wanted me to be a scene.
but
I wanted someone who could trust
I wanted someone who could be patient
I wanted someone who had the capacity to be kind
I wanted someone.
so no
I did not scream for you
but I did put away the necklace
I did not cry for you
but I did remove pictures from frames
I did not take your list of a letter
but I did hold my tongue

I screamed in nightmares months after, realizing you wanted not the best for me, but wanted every morsel, scrap, and drop of me.  

I did not do what you wanted.
because I wanted me.

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

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?

he asked me,

between a half cocked grin, and sip of whiskey —

‘Do you make every man fall in love with you?’

and that negroni —

really never tasted sweeter, against my tongue

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

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

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

I didn’t grasp

how painful reckless love would be

Until I looked up into the sky

simply— just wondering how I could call some pain beautiful

never wanting to feel it again

but sobbing for it anyways

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

I have found
that
those we want the most
are not those who we need

I have found
that
the ones we need the most
do not fall into your lap
till you understand
to like is easy
to love is challenging  

I have found
that
what I needed
was better than anything I could have wanted
because I could not
have wanted imperfect perfection
until I saw the way you grinned

I have found.
and I have been found.

he called me something pretty
as he slithered round my ankles
rattling along my bones
trying to constrict closer
and when I said that was too tight
well
he called me something not so pretty

it's the devils handiwork after all

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.

when whiskey sours sit empty
and oblivion starts to creep in
tucked along the strewn sheets
maybe you’ll taste me there

i was putting up the little fragmented bats
really just letting them explode everywhere

when i remembered you asked if you could be here
and i tried
i did not to cry
and when the first tear fell
was

when i realized that not every source of love in my life came from you
that the flowers L brought me
and C allowing me to replay that song
J giving me space to ramble and
S telling me how i needed to wax the car
was
when i realized i would really be okay

because you were a perfect chapter of my life, but you were not meant to be in the rest of mine

and that is okay

I can’t seem to keep my socks on
you know
they move
wiggle down
and I have to
pick them up
why is it that’s tolerable for socks—
but for humans it’s not?

there's something special about a kiss.

the kinda kiss where you need a second.
the kinda kiss that makes you rest in bliss.
not the two seconds of ecstasy
the two lifetimes kinda bliss.

the kind of bliss that starts when you see them smile, and then see them smile for you.

I want that kind of kiss with you.
the kinda want you now kiss
the right on the floor kiss
the kinda I'm tired but I love you kiss.

the kinda kiss that is only for you.
the kinda kiss I wanna give you
and stay
stuck
two lifetimes

or more

with you.

etched across the stratigraphy of grief in those mountains of dread and valleys of sorrow
I waited for you
Building a home by the lakes of regret
Hoping they wouldn’t wash away
What I hoped to build with you

I wanted him
like a man drunk wants cake
not at all then suddenly starving

I needed him
against all reason
and every crash of the wave

I loved him
watching as then sun drifted into the horizon
Reaching for the moon

Only to miss it
And hopelessly

We both tried again