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 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

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.

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.

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

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

I can no longer
explain
the depths of the pain
within her eyes
the way the ink leeched
From her very being
Into mine

I might still love you
maybe the thought of me
and you

and the good moments

maybe that’s why it’s so hard

because I haven’t stopped loving all the little moments or the smell of you

i might still love you

cause nothing tastes like that first kiss
and the longer one after that

the trail of clothes, or hat tipped back

maybe, maybe i still do,

but i can’t.

On these days
When the absence of you
Tears pockets in the fibres of my being

Time moves slow.

Because while the moments are fun
They could be better
With your laugh
With your touch
With your words

Like every molecule bound to my form craves the covalent bond that is being deprived

So I curl up
As if tightening my form could keep the missing from leaking out

And I envelope myself in the pieces of you
To stifle the leaks until
Your laugh
Your words
And your touch

Are here
With me

And the absence of you tears holes no longer

i just wish i could spend most days

discussing the use of colour. or the way humans can capture such emotion in things that do not breathe, but steal my breath anyways.

i wish i could spend most days

looking at the abyss, the way he holds her. the way she holds him, his hands curled up to her head ready to press her in further, just as much for protection as it is for his own need.

i wish i could spend most days

telling you that Rodin's kiss really doesn't showcase love the way Paolo would have done everything all over again, to be with her. But that doesn't change the way he wishes she didn't meet the same end with him.

to lust, to need is one thing. to lunge for a kiss, aching, like it might be stolen from you.

but to love. my god to love, to cling, to cherish— is quite another. To protect, to honour, to know pride means nothing if it means i get to hold you. to be anything you need me to be.

i wish i could spend most days

discussing the way he so clearly loved her. and how she loved him.

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

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

There are days
Where the stellar sings quieter
Whether muffled by mediocrity or sadness
no one’s sure

but they continue to sing
regardless of the love in apartment 2b
or the abuse in 3c

the stellar doth not discriminate
it’s tune drones on

even when the world seems to go all wrong

so as the day continues
so do they

till the stellar no long sings
and they sky is no longer grey

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

It’s almost like dust settled.
routine suddenly happened after spontaneity ran out one morning to grab some milk.

and we're both pretending like it'll be right back

the gods should plead to her
because few things are more majestic
than the way
her back
curves
and her hips paint effortless lines down into her thighs
creating hearts
and the kind of shapes I could get lost in
until the quiet of morning
and the echoes of night

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

when I was little
when war was fun and fights were competitions
I never thought
about the little girl
stuck
between the lines
or the little youngling
who was neither here nor there
but simply, was
and the world called loser.

As I wrote symphonies on your lips
And the sunlight played it in stride
time took a breath
and we we’re left to acknowledge
the way my hands felt on your chest
And yours on my back
drawing little nothing, utterly content
to rest in the breath time took
and murmur all the words the greatest lovers never got to whisper
while your green eyes shone
looking at me

Amongst the sneezing
the aches
and the hacking “yum”
we cried in laughter
and embraced the glory  
of that ******* sock
and snotty showers
and even as
I sniffled into that dq ice cream
with his nose nuzzled at my knee
I couldn’t help but be content
at your unkempt
unbelievably ****
layered white tee and
frying pan abilities

where does the weight come from
that lays upon your face?

why does it feel like, Atlas was shrugged away by you?

why does it linger so, even amidst the noise?

when you tell me “I'm fine"
but I can see the void.

when you shrugged Atlas away,
you should have told me… a whisper would've been okay.


maybe I could have held you close
or held your hands away

so I could hold the world on my own.

          but I can’t.

not when I know that this weight is not mine to bear. nor would you let me.

so I watch, as the weight c
                                           r
                                             u
                                          s
                   ­                          h
                                          e
                   ­                          s
you

crushing me.

Dear lover, such is my random wonderings:

the touch of the wind across my neck
and how it made me think of that night with nothing but some musty sheets and moonlight

I wish I could tell you
my dear
of how love should feel
across the pit of your stomach and the heel of your soul

my love
I wish I could grant you
his love to you
so you may know that love should not hurt
but it should scream and rage
as relentless as the sea
it should make you bellow and moan
like the greats across the chests of those gone

it should make you wild
wanting wind between your legs and sun angled on your back
no longer simply wanting
but craving mud between your toes

it should make you cackle
in the face of sorrow
because you would rather go mad than face a day without them

and some days
it should make you rest
between their arms smelling of a hearth and bourbon

it should swallow you whole
in comfort and meditative waves
bringing you peace that seems to only rest
in sunlight across beaches
where no one goes

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.

it is a little funny to me
how little words jotted down in moments of feeling have become touchstones to my soul.

where i can trace the etches of love, lust, and loss with you.

but not even just with you, with myself, and apparently, you the reader.

it is a little funny to me.

how my touchstones, have also, in turn— become yours.

where you could see i couldn't sleep. maybe couldn't breathe. where soul aches and loss weighs, and memories become whispers against my skin.

and i could almost feel your laughter skate across my shoulder, or fingers against my cheek.

so i guess i'll continue
jotting down little moments, hoping a few more come my way

sometimes we must realize
that there’s a reason
lovers who sit beside each other
last longer
than those who do not
because
how can you hold the rope
together
when your constantly tugging against
the other?

Sometimes
I forget the way your hip fits
and other times
I forget you like the heat
But never
do I forget the way you love me
in the daylight and in the sheets

sometimes my bones forget
that being an artist
being a creator
is not having the ability to create something beautiful
to be marvelled at
it is simply
the cry
the urge
the fire so deeply churning
to produce
to recapture
to create