the last time I had spoken to ghosts
was when I unbuttoned the world
and took a seam ripper to all its edges
sitting in your old chair
holding the fabric of remembrance
chewing on the mouldy taste of grief
slowly freeing the overlocked words
I had buried deep into the stitches

the thing is,
when I get dressed in the morning
There's always a button missing
There's always a sadness
stuck in the hem

I do need to talk

about my grief, he thinks that --


this would be unwise.

woke up  
on tuesday morning,  

one foot  
in front of the other.  

no rush,  
no hurry—  

just me,  
blue and under  
the weather.  

i used to find  
sunshine  
in so many places,  

but i lost  
the best  
i’ve ever had—  

and now,  
the sun feels  
a little colder
now.

i wonder  
whether  
it gets better.  

i used to be  
a goal-getter.  
now i’m in overdrive,  

short-term PTSD—  
nerves wrecked,  
spirit stretched.  

so many days  
crying,  
wondering if  
this ever ends—  

’cause i’m tired  
of living  
a bittersweet story,  

and tired  
of being  
down bad.  

you were  
the best—  

the best  
i’ve ever had.

My thoughts never
get tired of me
They feel the winter
While I live the summer

I never get to have a chance
A certainty meant to last
A love undone of the past
Four wheels on pavement so fast

Not to be stopped or taken
Just to be lived and laughed

I woke up early that day
but once I peeled open my eyes
realisation clouded them
as reality blinded me,

I fell asleep that day
despiration pulling me away
from the atrocities of the waking world
as I lay in bed crying and wailing,

A bit of me died with you that day
as my heart did fall apart
solemn and invisible
but I still feel you now
and know you never left
because I woke up early that day
to spend more time with you.