i tried to string words on this white canvas.
i tried to make sense of my thoughts.

i thought perhaps they would quiet down,
just for a while.
like a grumpy child given a phone.

but that child does not cry for the shiny device.

the child cries for the traumatised mother
who can barely sustain herself.
years of abuse have worn her thin.

the child cries for the numb father
who can barely feel pain.
years of giving exhausted him.

the child cries. cries. and cries.
until she learned to string her tears
into a broken poem.

the waves, i hear them

my name on your lips
the sand is wet under my hands

your hands, the wetness of dried pain
grains between my fingers

your lingering touch
the white trails of the waves

hot on my cold lips
the riptide of our love

hit me
with the force of our kisses

sweet and salt

to me
you're the blue sky
deep and bright and cold and pleasant

you're the blue sea
mysterious and catastrophic; an eternal youth

you're the blue sweater
warm and withdrawn; a hug from the heavens

you're the blue ink
distinct and distant; my desperate home

you're blue
oblivious yet sublime; my favourite hue.

a little black hole that
i was.

the love that i craved
was the light that scared,
so i turned into a black hole
alone and in despair.
until i crossed my path with yours

a little black hole that
you are.

misery and destruction was etched in my fate.
misery and destruction awaits your gates.
but oh, you welcomed me with open arms
for a time, i feel calm.

afraid that i will eat you too
you have the same thoughts, don't you?
away, away, i try to swim
in a void of nothing, bound to a whim
to let the darkness pull you to me,
toss and turn and twirl and free

a little light, i see in me.
a little blue, i see in you.

i close my eyes
and wish a yes
a little black hole, the
two us.