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travesties Feb 2014
i
she
ripped her
satin gloves
apart till
the lace
and thread
spilt down
her lap
edging towards
the ground
falling as
soft
as a breath
of air.

ii
breathe
life into
the darkest
corners
of your highway
head.

iii
you tell me
"jump,
you will fall
you will hurt
but the time
you spend
clutching at
suspended
air
is worth
the bleeding
and torn
bundle
of skin
you
become."

iv**
cross my
heart an
d hope t
o die tha
t i don't l
isten to y
our endl
ess cries
travesties Feb 2014
❝I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes; on my face they are still together. ❞ **—Warsan Shire
travesties Feb 2014
let me in
your satin heart.
let me feel
your silken limbs,
your cotton thoughts.

let me feel
it pass through me
stay inside me.

lock it and throw the key.
let me live
in this little bright lie
for another
spare
useless
second.
travesties Feb 2014
were we ever what we thought?
travesties Feb 2014
this is to be read with she or he in front of every sentence, respectively*

she
rose up from the crooked stacks of books lining the shelves.
dusted her jeans.
glanced at the wooden floor.
made a note of the intricate workings.

he
slid his glasses higher up his nose.
looked over the balcony.
twisted the pen in his hand.
sighed deeply.
wondered.
waited.

she
grabbed her bag.
aligned the scattered thoughts towards the door.
left a trail of vanilla behind.
didn't stop to look back.

he
watched the life over the edge of the height.
lingered over a few, passed over many.
made up lives and people in his head.
wished they were having a better day than him.
waited.
wondered.

she
walked ahead of everyone else.
didn't stop to look in the windows of the welcoming shops.
didn't stop at the scent of roses from the flower shop she passed.
almost retched as it reached her nose.
was hidden amongst the bustle of a million.
didn't stop to look back.

he
felt it again.
tried to ignore it.
felt the trial and error.
tried to do what his therapist tried telling him.
climbed over the wall, separating him from the people and gravity.
debated what he needed.
waited.
wondered.

she
felt the sun on the back of her neck.
felt her mind automatically go to his hand resting there.
pinched herself.
encased herself with blank walls.
stretched on blankets of white paper.
willed herself to focus on her way home.
debated.
deleted.
doubted.

he
found all that was left on his tongue was a name.
wanted to know that name.
wanted to savour that name.
wanted to wrap himself inside that name.
wanted to pour himself into it.
wanted parts of him to evaporate and curl upwards.
wanted nothing but to let himself loose.
was tired of waiting.
was tired of wondering.

she
let her head drag her home.
let her mind stay focused on the forgetting.
carefully fingered through each memory and set it on fire.
felt herself burn, inside and out.
let herself fall gently, like ash in air.
reeled backwards.
was surprised at the contact of the door on her stiff back.
made a note to burn all her notes.

he
found a way back to home while still seated on the metal rods jammed into the ground.
found his peace in a name.
found every touch in the whispers of a wind.
found what he was wondering.
found what he was waiting for.
let it run through him like an old song after a few years.
let it burn.
let it burn him to pieces.

she
never knew the difference between let leave and let go.
never knew what to expect of a set heart.
had never known just how much her factual heart could collide with his guitar-string soul.
never ever knew.

he
lingered on the edge of the end.

she
remembered all her forgotten forevers.

he
thought how a morning walk could lead to an event that would probably be on the morning papers by tomorrow.

she
let her regrets flow through her like the blood in her veins.

he
went over the head tail head tail head tail.

she
fell back to the does he knows

he
fell back to the will she even cares

she
wanted to run to him.

he
wanted her.

she
was too quiet.

he
thought too loud.

she
wondered.
waited.

he
stopped wondering.
stopped waiting.
travesties Feb 2014
i simply
stopped wiping
the trails and
tracks of
vulnerability
that slid down
the sides
of your porcelain
neck
when you stopped
acknowledging
mine
travesties Feb 2014
you are nothing but stringed, tangled sentences.

— The End —