i can’t remember a time before i wasn’t caught
in the pearly whites of your canines, or an era
when i wasn’t perforated apart by your cannonballs,
shot down by the bullets of the glistening emeralds
you call your eyes.

i can’t remember a time when my poems
wasn't dedicated to memorising every detail
of your raven eyelashes curving to the sky,
or how the warmth of your palms transcend
the coldness i tolerated in my heart.

i can’t remember a time when i didn’t
have something to lose, and i think that started
when your honey-lidded gaze fall on me in the
middle of a crowded room with too much sound,
but i can still hear the ‘i love you’.

i can’t remember a time when you used to be static
-pure background noise, irrelevant, unnoticed
after all, doesn’t it drive you crazy how much
someone could mean to you?
at first, they’re a whisper in the dark and suddenly-

(boom!)

you're a haze of ninety-nine cents dreams,
naivety bottled in your distressed jeans
and your ******-inspired bambi teardrop eyes;
and i'm the devil behind why you've cried

your mouth chokes with fury and rage
'so why are you still here?' i ask again
but secretly, i know you and your obsession
-the glory tales of getting heartbroken

you know i'm pure poison flowing in your veins,
a disaster functioning on self-hatred and novacane,
but you're wild violet and champagne in a sweet kiss,
desperate to be inundated into my abyss.

we're just two people,
trying to teach each other
how to hate ourselves less.

pick me apart,
tear me down,
strip me up,
skin and bones,
nothing else left-
you're a phantom
to me now,
and i'm haunted,
for-ever-more;
i have questions
did it mean
anything to you?
am i different?
just like others?
do i sweep
breath out from
your nicotine lungs?
do i make
you shake, quiver,
tremble before me?
am i forgettable-
a mistake or,
just another mark
on the scoreboard?
are we a
mere whimper in
the never-ending darkness,
or a sparkling
fizzle of a
firework, raining blue,
red and white?
all i want to
ask you is
was i like
the other girls
or am i
more to you?

i'm writing this at two in the morning,

barely functioning on heartbreak and whiskey,

at a party my friends made me go to,

i see you with that t-shirt from two nights ago

you're avoiding my gaze like it's make out of laser,

ready to burn and sear you into pieces.

i remember your kiss like glass shards,

from nights of being drunk in crowded clubs;

but i don't mean much to you

because we're generation l o v e l e s s



i think i'm actually incapable of genuine emotions,

because i'm a cynic who refuses to let people in,

my mother thinks i'm awfully indifferent,

she's right so i pretend to seem interested;

and work on fruitless endeavours to give a ****,

while drowning myself in sirens of trap music and rap rhythms,

swaying my body with people i call my best friends,

and writing tales of golden boys and gilded girls,

twirling in sunshine, holding hands and falling in love

but what do i know?

after all, i'm part of generation l o v e l e s s.


you erode my coats of armour and walls of steel

like rust and water and metal,

and even after i told myself, ten thousand stories later,

this isn't going to go well, and believe me, it didn't,

i'm here paralysed in a paroxysmic moment of words,

hurtling at me like rapid machine bullets,

bemoaning about a soul that will never

consider me as an equal,

and you have me here, lying on alabaster sheets,

as sleep obnoxiously eludes me,

turning you in the currents of my mind, going one two three

like the beat of a love song playing behind our lips

(maybe i'm not as loveless as i thought as i was)

her pin-up figure drifts from body to body,
eyes red-rimmed from *** and ketamine;
you can taste the hurricane when you kiss her,
and know from the very start, this is your destruction.

everybody loves her- or rather, the idea of her,
infatuated with the caricature of her depression,
her cherry-pink mouth and bottle blonde demons;
those bambi eyes streaming tears down her apple cheeks

you think you're the knight in shining armour-
hell no, you're merely a victim of her wildfire,
a statement made to anyone who dare enters her hearth;
she's a heartbreaker, made out of vices and poison.

from the moment you coat me in your stardust
i know i'm doomed for my heart to be torn into two,
i'm ready for a pulsating, whirlwind romance,
of two souls ricocheting from every dark corner.

i know my heart will shatter across the linoleum floor,
shards of red and glass tumbling from my open heart cavity,
dripping blood, desire and dignity, because everybody knows
the story of the harlequin girl and her daredevil charmer.