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Jimmi May 2020
sometimes they all surprise you when
you've think you've got the world all figured out.
the way they bring you paintings,
tributes, jewellery.
the way sometimes you catch them crying
in the middle of the night into your earrings.
the way the tears are just as much your own.
the way you never really know someone
until it all is truly bared,
spread thinly,
kissed off.
the way we only sleep when the alarm
is going off.
the way somedays you feel so empty it aches
and then you are rekindled.
just in a kick of the heels.
In a way, we all have matching feathers,
a whole trail of them,
cast loose from a broken wing.
sparks flying everywhere.
sometimes I am soft and other times i'm
high and naughty.
I hide behind bright lipstick
the flames I run my hands through
are always blue.
all these tiny birds,
cast free
like gunshots.
Jimmi May 2020
let me be the
fine silky edge,
the little scratch
of softly,
the girl
running through
your poppies
Let me be the way
you even keep your
sadness in a happy place.
let me be
double knot
in a delicate thread.
let me be,
the silence
when everything else
is just that painting of a scream.
let me be your scream
when you need to just say something
let me be the lipstick
that wont come off you.
Let me be a your hand full of straps
the tear in your picture,
let me be the shock
that makes the wires catch fire.
let me be the spark plug
the push when it wont start
the wave that comes back when it wants to
let me be your girl after girl after girl.
Let me be that Bit of other that you like
Let me be your scissors
Let me be your water fight
let me be your revenge, your bony shoulder,
your wet mess.
Let me be your fish stick
your tatoo on the skin you keep a secret.
your mummy.
let me be your bloodbank.
let me be your wet nurse, **** collection.
dinner lady.
let me be your tears for no reason,
let me be the burnt sugar.
let me slip into a language that's more comfortable.
a torn dress, a whole sleeve, a childhood grieveheart.
I'm a complicated mess.
wine and milk,
and hurftful kisses.
a bag of damaged goods.
and drug addictions,
Kicked rocks
let me be your loving heart.
Let me be myself again.
Let me be the one you don’t **** up
This time.

but please
just don't ever call me pretty.

— The End —