churning gut
bottled courage
a crowded room
with watching eyes
this same old night
i'm your satellite
repetition of time
and of place
take the step.
6.
i fell into the darkness
i woke up to the light
bleary, aching, smiling
your face resting on white
how could i have slept?
the bus rocks rhythmically
past places i vaguely know
and i still don't understand
underneath the water flow
and i'm scared.
this won't change
anytime soon
because all i can see
is you.
7.
inadequate, awkward
and jumbled.
lumbering along
clumsy at best.
i’m not this girl
or rather, i am
this is more me
than i’ve ever been.
next to svelte, smooth skin
uncomfortable in my own.
lithe against my slackness
glowing against my blandness
fecund flesh
my abdomen undulates
i can’t go back, i won’t go back
the family curse
a longing to redress
to control
to shrink.
8.
the red light district
unfriendly and cold
shaking knees
nervous legs, unsteady
the price of a ticket
will get you this far
which number
the pimp in pyjamas
the prostitute in jeans
she's shy, she's always shy
nuzzling the crook of your neck
seeking, yearning
edging towards climax
dissatisfying
yet i know i'll come back
ticket in hand
next time.
9.
warm autumn evening
bags weighing down
grooves in fingers
whitened by the load
sketchbook of riddles
irrelevant purchases
an onerous heart.
you call
you speak to me
thoughts from yourself
the one i want to know
so frustratingly
so intensely
every thought a prize
for getting so far
but not close enough.
the shutters come down
on your life at your will
and i'm still outside
reading your letters
following shadows
guesses and speculation.
i sketched in the museum
i could describe every crevice
recount every nuance
with you i'm sketching blind.
10.
this again
childhood crowd
fumes and melodies
smiling faces
chips for the winning
i'm not here.
i'm not okay.
i feel sick to my gut
spinning thoughts
the burning taste
rolling down my throat.
who's the dealer now?
does it even matter.
i'm playing a child's game
with a child's rules.
he started it, i'll say
and she started it
when she looked at me
in that heartbreaking way.
11.
surge and then relax
cheek against cheek
nose against nose
i catch your eye-
we smile.
scaling rocks
and each other
i'm careful not to slip
but i'm falling.
12.
not so much a secret
an omission
i scarcely think
that's not me
amidst the rocks
her downcast face
me too, it was me
i heard it before
pressing down
on my forearm
not hard enough
not as torn up
not defiled enough
as i was then
i wanted to see myself
on my own skin.
beyond the universe
somebody pulled the strings
seeing yours and seeing mine
it seems right, it might be nice
to pull a little, to tug together
to unravel the meekness
eroding the fortifications
built up before you.
my life became a sketchbook
i thought that was enough
always in the back of my mind
you, and the futility of trying
and now, standing precariously
on a rock that must be tested
every time, incase it shifts
or the tide that changes
steadily and then abruptly
leaving me stranded on the shore.
13.
luck smiled on us
that day by the sea
where i could believe
you were made for me.
then the sky darkened
and the moon rose high
when i turned to look
at the passing sky.
you break into my body
and your words infusing, soar
creating feeling, glowing bright
like it never did before.
i can never whisper to you
the things i need to say
so i'll piece these words together
and one day find a way.
14.
distortion of love and faith
filling cluttered space
displacing errant thoughts
and consuming.
an immaculate bedspread
that has known many men
who stole her sleep and made her wan
pale and drawn against the light
you are the tranquillity
the calming breath, as turtledoves
she sees it in her memory
maybe this is how she is and will be
one who longed to go to the ball
but ran before her time was up
the reality of it too harsh to face
the horror she felt throttling her
as he chased her from the room
in her little girl's costume that
she'd outgrown many years before
and the shoes that pinched her feet.
raise a child on fairytales
and she'll saturate herself
the wringing process over now
she's clean, and new, and one.
15.
you touch so tentatively
hair a sunny curtain
over your timid eyes
and your tiny hand in mine
lifting my spirits
and sending them up
creating stars.
my suncatcher
refracting the light
casting rainbows
and making it bright.
16.
the wires
stretching over the city
bearing the burdens
of mere words
keenly felt
i wrote a dozen poems
and they flew over the town
under and over the streetlamps
where i used to walk
with others less cherished.
and if you can't be here
with me tonight
i'll trust the wires
to kiss you goodnight.
17.
i'm unsteady
not so much unstable as
unsure and i'm sure
unnoticed by you
except you say that
you think of me, you do.
18.
incomparable, inconsequential
alongside ethereal girl
skin too translucent, eyes too bright
nimue; nymph-like and lithe
as i , corpulent
fumble over words
stumbling through anecdotes
well, i won't try anymore
a nimble birch
a fawn, or a--
it matters not, not now
and my incoherent scribbles can't solve
her brows, raised
and your nervous laugh
as i stew rabbits
to pass the time.
19.
fingers poised and frozen
tongue-tip but trapped
to say to you
may astonish and alarm
you retreat and hide
and i want to make you soar
so i revert to the banal
the bare scuff of feeling
and maybe you know
what i'm thinking.
20.
guttural sounds from maternal throat
errant child, the previous prodigal
has done it to you again.
the truth of it is, she just lost track of time
and how can she say, this isn't a sign
of drugs, or of alcohol, or even a guy
an hour ago, with a girl, entwined
she wishes they were here, under your roof, tonight.
and she would walk all the way home in the rain
if there was a chance she could see her again.
cherishing the minute hope that
she feels the same.
21.
hop off just in time, midnight store
sprinklings across the pavement cracks
raindrops falling across cold cheeks and running
like i am running, i'm always running.
from something or someone. to someone.
so atypical and incredible and shy.
so terribly i can't hide in my translucency
like i normally would in a cloak of another
and there's dynamics that i barely understand
and maybe i'm ridiculous, borderline
and to be so open is to welcome punches
but confiding pressure, barely meeting mine
i want to curl up to you, like the feline i am
nap a thousand naps, and wake up certain.
22.
my stomach dances for you, little steps, figure skating
and i don't know where you are, i feel like i'm always waiting
the world outside is darker than my memory can recall
anxious for the door knock and your presence in the hall
like on that evening when you smiled and clung to me
and you were beautiful, you're always beautiful, can't you see?
23.
dark oasis, secret annexe
where the light can't locate
and the sleeping lie still.
her hands patterned onto me
her codes and secrets
and i burrowed, believing her.
her eyes penetrated me, into infinity
hair tumbling over shoulders
tonight, mine were bare.
and guilt washes over
for this vibrant pair
but to renounce is the pain.
she's not for keeps
and i hold on a little longer.
24.
she doesn't believe in illusions
there is nothing wrong with reality
and reality is an illusion.
substance blurring your lines
and mine were stark.
pain wanted to press close, to mould
but your veins ran clear and i, resigned
studied the soft tones and traces of your skin
contemplating my magnum opus
my gift, which would not be nearly enough.
25.
i've seen this image before in my mind
two soft forms, a faint glimmer
the moon watching this one time
careless arm, ashen cheek
and the sun rises and steals the peace.
26.
i am an obstacle
pattering down the hallway
and tapping down the stairs
instincts overwhelming
in the middle of the night
and it was cold.
lights flicker on and off
and we laugh semi-silently
in the sedated darkness.
every task a mission
every feeling amplified
into cosmic proportions, but real
even in the morning drizzle.
i crossed my arms over my chest
but i longed to hold you close
to let you in.
27.
detained, curled up in a cell
with curses soaring over my head
which throbs, from a mistake
i am a mistake.
erroneous, an anomale
with a tenuous hold on myself
tonight, i have waned
i have weakened
and i cannot be here again
following this orbit
where i will take my last breath
venus, i'm your laika.
28.
dangling on a precipice
and she's unfurling my fingers
subtly, and i'm helpless
with my poor grasp of you
and my slipping grip.
i descend.
and you drank too much
sprawled on the floor, broken
like a puppet girl
and she steals your strings.
29.
void of substance
drained by self-consciousness
i look at you too much.
the bottle pours forth, like your confidences
when mixed together, with lemonade.
my heart has four chambers
and they are all empty tonight
footsteps could echo through them
strangers leaving without a word
and we could be strangers
in our latent romance.
30.
i feel your decline
and perhaps for me, this evening
this tide won't come back in again.
inside, i am elemental
digging my toes in the sand
hair caught in a salty breeze
tangling beyond recognition
caramel knots and curls entwined
the sea that makes my eyes sparkle
turns them green, they're not green.
as i stand on rocks and wait and wait
for the tide to return, as i did as a child
and my family dozed and bathed
as i stood, remote, aloft on the stone
and the water played around my ankles
and tickled my toes, rejuvenating me
i could wait indefinitely for you.
31.
crisp october, the icy stillness flowing through my veins
lyrics floating on the surface of my mind
you left too soon, i slept in so late
and i woke up to a world that was glowing.
i want to build a nest from cotton warm
and invite you to stay with me, curled up and serene
soft snores in sleep, two where there once was three
dynamics beyond comprehension or sense
in my autumnal optimism.
and my capacity for you, in the morning, at night
and all the other times in between
and we wouldn't be so shy, the greatest felicity
smiling at you in the quiet sunrise, and knowing.
32.
and now i can fall away, slip away
like the light snow washed away by the rain
aghast and watching, sweet promise destroyed
as i said to her on a sunday morning
you lay there, motionless, tinny resonance beating
"i should fall away, slip away
out of your lives like i came
leaving no mark or memory"
or maybe less eloquently, i never could speak well.
and she told me to wait. to wait still.
i will wait, alone and without conviction
no sight or sound of you, no joy in touch any longer
or for my heart - and anticipation of tomorrow
will fade to an echo in a muddled mind
and the rain will pound down and erase
and you'll forget my name, you'll forget my face.
33.
fingers pause
straining for the word
to articulate, alliterate-
but i don't believe
in alliteration.
pick a subject
anything but
and i try to type
and form the phrase
it never works
so i write about you
and there's nobody else
not for me
a lonely bus-stop
with myself
for company
and walking home
is too lonely.
school too routine
weekends too blind
we drink for courage
but when we drink
it's not really you
next to me.
34.
my clown's face terrified
and stopped your heart.
my painted smile too overbearing
for your rhythmic fluttering.
now the carnival's closing
white paint streaming
into my oversized shoes
i'm rattling the closed gate.
35.
i can't be like the man i revere
screaming his soul out to let us know
if i could articulate, narrate this for you
it would be a strangled sound
with a furious shaking of the head
to say i do not want this at all
i want to tear my sketchbook to pieces
and watch them float down like coloured snow
i truly hate the winter; i want-
i want to sit in my wardrobe, where i hide
but there's faces in the woodwork and they accuse
his skeletal face always accusing in it's gaunt peaks
and i'm a lecher, corrupt, always with you
longing for something, still not knowing what
and my other self, she remodels her life again
a different boy in place of the one she lost
but i can't do that, i have to annihilate
sometimes unintentionally, mostly desired
and start from scratch with clay and stone.
36.
vividly blue; bluer than memory serves
curving around pale cheekbones, my brush rushes
to fill in the creamy tendrils and the clinging shadows
your arresting stare, and my concentration
is not moved one inch from your aspect.
farewell strokes and salutations
the colour pools, and i move on.
37.
i falter mid-flight
and spiral down, further down
and peacocks can't fly.
so decorative, irrelevant
a burden around a slender neck
i never wanted that.
my glowering casts a shadow
over drinks-
they smell better than they taste
or so i've found, so you've found.
and my mind is distorted enough
so i must decline.
38.
canned laughter i'm sure must be for me
we spoke of paranoid psychosis and they sipped their wine
and i stared into my plate, serenaded by his melancholy
and my growing fear in everything, an intruder.
and over phone lines that cost more than i'm worth
"follow your heart" she says, hopefully
and i would, but it's cold out tonight.
39.
they're cramped and entwined
and this large canvas of mine
is too big for just me
and perhaps it's a sign.
this can't be my house
and this can't my bed
and this can't be my face
'cause my eyes aren't this red.
i'm returning to that rocky shore
but this time knowing something more.
40.
speaking into the microphone
words nobody wants to hear
excuses and failed attempts
and they'll disconnect.
calling out into a solemn universe
let me know, let me understand
and tonight could change my world
wherever fate plays her hand.
your thinly veiled disinterest
clashes with my overwhelming call
and you won't ever say it
nor he, but it's not the same
from two different pairs of lips
and people who mean so differently
i'd have you for my heart
but i'm a minor point, negligently
i go.
41.
speeding into the inky endlessness
and the sound reverberating
my thoughts untouched
consumed, enveloped by you
the chilly air doesn't even tarnish
the small hope nurtured
in my solar plexus
some drunken night
it found its home, took root inside.
but upon returning to my home
i find
the flowers have died
their edges burnished
their colour faded.
42.
the words i let you see
are simple replicas of thoughts
lely's venus from primitive clay
i'm not good with clay
and it's true that optimism
fails my words most days.
i can't help that my meagre memory
can no longer suffice.
the night you said wouldn't last
whispering into my skin
and i slowed time and let it revolve
you revolved, eternally winter
i recorded for a time
and my gaze grazed yours
untouchable.
43.
rising, escalating-
except that escalating
implies a crisis
maybe this is a crisis
as i cannot contain
or transfer and it
threatens to overwhelm
but i'd happily drown in it
like i wanted to in you
in my box of paints
before i knew.
44.
it strikes me suddenly
we've never been here together
unless you count before, and after
the train to another place
the steady chug and the abandon
and do these streets feel the same?
the haunting of lovers past.
and do i feel the same?
i can hardly hold your hand.
is it possible to communicate
from one glance to the next?
my temples pulse and i ache
to close my eyes and not think anymore.
45.
the obscenities in undertones
the power of language - all that remains
and you blankly look at me
look right through me, into empty space
and my shoulders aren't half so heavy
but she wins over, they all win over
as the boys fade into photographs
i can't even imagine them into being
nor want to, my reflection magnified
and every fissure revealed to me
through you, the empty vessel.
46.
the phone is lifted to my ear again
more streams of sympathy
advice i've sought, too often
i won't use it.
head and heart, they're the same
or, at least, they seem to be
and to follow both is to court disaster
then again,
disaster has always followed me.
i could tell you
in a thousand or more words
or paint across your walls
what i feel so
when you wake up you'll see
what i do, occasionally.
i don't care
well, i tell myself i don't
and i'd like that to be true for once
but in all honesty—
47.
the blurry boundaries
and necessity and timid brushes
perfect complexions swimming
on memory's surface. and my hate--
sleep won't visit tonight.
resolution crumbles before you
compromise taken from a bottle
eroding my will with every shooting glance
and i clench my fists to prevent
the inevitability, and the intoxication
when we drink, drop, succumb.
you left your scent on my pillow
which rises, and startlingly
your hair fanned out, your face nestled in
and i can't say - stay.
48.
Black, blank and soundless
I never sleep when you are near--
taunted through half-opened eyes
seemingly motionless but
flickering from side to side.
I unplugged my clock
marked time with each breath;
meanwhile, it spun past.
So dark so early, I wait for day...
I used to dread the awakening
when we stirred and, estranged,
moved around and away
absorbed in private lives
and elusive as ever the escape
from the words spoken in obscurity
when we could barely see our faces.
I no longer need your mutterings
which fell carelessly into my hands
by some unhappy accident.
Your words escape my clutches like smoke
and spiral, lost to deep space--
no longer to be replayed and rationalised.
Devoid of any meaning I can place upon them
for all they made me soar.
I prayed for dawn, for the end of fear
for my hands to unwind and not strain
against my will and my convictions.
Goodnight.
49.
i scan and feel sick
regurgitating phrases
i never wanted to read
and lou reed, he croons to me
soft melodies, bittersweet
like you.
you who inspired me
dragged from me errant words
sentiments too ardently felt
for your shy ears.
rebuff me, use me
haul me after you willingly
as these words turn to coal.
and the girl with the angel face
shouldn't be kept waiting.
50.
a wide road opens, indefinite path
curving round, full of possibility
of bright eyes and soft smiles
and nuzzling nose to nose.
they will eclipse all other recollections
or so i hope, for myself. and for you.
i loose my feet from their restraints
their happy prisons, free.
and in my memory, before it fades
i kiss your cheek, your lips, your hair
and remember that you were the first.
51.
hijack my thoughts, steal my mind
invade me, charter me, with ceaseless words
anything other than the release, not half as sweet
as syllabic dreaming and infinite moment.
52.
My eyes alter shadows
To the dancing shapes
And the lonely melody
Is keeping me awake.
The screen is bright-
Pixellated and harsh
And your words mean nothing
I'm alone in the dark.
53.
some days and weeks they stumble past one sleep to the next my sheets strangely empty but i have occupied them alone for as long as i can remember and your words bleak and hopeful my eyes jump from line to line to devour their meaning your structure so tantalising you fluidly switch perspectives i was a device for such you were the only i saw my memories and i gave them language you torment with the present i cannot escape such a clutch i try in vain to forget you waste to bones i engorge i get scared in the night when my limbs are apart from me and if you were here they would be yours i create shadows of monsters and i sing me to sleep where are you a cold heart and tiny hands.
54.
prone and still upon her bed
cocooned in blankets, eyes heavy and sad
she's a foreign body, an inconsistency
and i'm too drained to think.
dissect each turn and rest of arm
so unreal in its incongruity
her stranger's smile leaving me void
this is hardly a dream, but i wonder
if i pinched myself, could i feel it?
anaesthetised without touch.
55.
flushed cheeks, laughing through wires
those tiny streams of satellite
vessels bursting to the surface of my skin.
hold you closer to me, recording breath
shut out the consciousness of thought
disregard remarks made from necessity
pace through your every word
cresting, falling through my open mind
sending me into a paralysis
pacing and turning, a frozen aspect
we rotate and fly across open roads
the headlights revealing another world
and so easily, the words
they come to me again
my sometimes friend.
56.
pale, drawn stranger
barely a word or a thought
but i find upon your face
our twilight hours deepening
into a gentle dawn.
your vines and strands
falling over skinny arms
a wooden-framed embrace
to hold me.
with your dancing apex
bare flesh revealing secrets
as you unwrapped my skin.
serenity of movement
my faltering kisses
belying my heart.
and infinite time
or so it seemed to me then
when we became, and left
and forgot.
i drew you from my veins
and stored my memory away
the only antidote
an amputation of self.
and now it seems that
dawn and twilight speed past
or they merge, indistinguishable
lacklustre, like i am
like i always was
but never knew.
it was different with you.
57.
lily-white and pale, unending
your soft breath and minute hands
poetry, you can't help it
it infiltrates every move
and nose to nose
became purity.
a brash, braggart turn of head
strip me down, right down
to the coarse vulnerability
and enjoy me.
i want, i need-
too scared, i don't feel
overbearing and towering
over me, over my heart
weak shadows
i try desperately, shielding
from this influence.
it would be too hard
ultimately so easy
to sacrifice.
but your image i keep
tucked away beneath
secret from them
too cherished by me.
58.
we drive, we make plans
you tell me i cannot sleep, not yet.
surface abrasions dissolving
when we are on the road.
but we stop.
she is poetry – running
meek, hat and distanced eyes
and my cynicism melts.
scuffed boots, a shorn head
staring at the ground, uneasy steps
wizened trees that could be me.
resolved to stare through windows
eyes misting up, despite resistance.
this hair, this face, this burden
are not mine.
this life, this love, this past
are not mine.
eliminate them one by one.
59.
short, slanting shoulders
my helpless smile
this soft body.
so appealing, to another life.
and to be another.
transforming gentle features
ravaging curls
my destructive impulse
no longer the coquette.
to breathe soft seduction
through a stubbled mouth
into small, white crescents.
my rough, martyred hands
to be him – any of them
to stand up, now.
to put tristan to shame.
his coarse muscles
through abrasive skin.
against her perfection.
60.
chasing down a golden semi-sphere
wondering eyes and open mouths
and the rush of the wind.
a halt, a gaze.
surrounded by hushed greenery
melodies i don't recognise.
sleep stealing over my eyelashes
a distant figure in my timespan.
we run, we jump, juvenile once more
but soon the darkness falls further
cold fingers probing
at the lengths of my arms
and my flushed cheeks.
i met your eyes once, or many times
beyond note, blank once more
nothing to see or suffer
an abyss of empty feeling.
for that, a half smile
a denial of tears
moving forward is sweeter
than lagging behind.
61.
a silent silhouette against my doorframe
falls of hair shielding a dear face
awkward, sloping movements turned fluid
the rasp of covers.
slow form sliding next to me
a graze of lips at the nape of my neck
against my boyish hairline
a tremulous turn.
the illusion fades - softly outlined hips
curved mirror, empty
transparent form only, a memory
of flickering eyelashes
dark candles in the moonlight
hair like pale spiderwebs, glowing
a deep ache, now.
a solemn christmas vigil
for my expired miracle.
62.
i find i am emptily glad
this sea that separates, annihilates
a hope of a chance.
for if you were here--
no gloved, clasped hands
no cold kisses, no contrived mistletoe
free to sink my sorrows in drink and
the peace your absence brings which
is anything but the peace
you breathed into my life and heart
in secret coves and setting suns.
if eden be earthly--
your hair in the salt breeze
sun resting on our upturned cheeks
your confiding hand
and clear gaze.
i understand the pain of the fall
the ultimate descent
a grace so holy
never to be tasted again.
63.
i write for that
which cannot speak.
for my eyes, unwillingly seeing
for my soul
those little torn pieces
carried in their pockets.
their fingers smoothing over
rolling papers.
writing perhaps
for this gorged body
swelling outside its capacity
detestably female.
craving the empty, craving you
by default.
indulged through pages
of mixed experience.
deny me this and more
the simple but felt
the pleasure of characters
on a screen.
no portholes to your mind.
and i tell you all
whilst i can form the words
i was your lapse in judgment.
64.
poorly shot film
weakly capturing-
pixellated
like my vision,
falling to the floor.
the sight of celia laughing
smiling, alongside boats
sweetly tears my innards.
when i knew you
my nociceptors failed
to recognise you.
they leave their welts
on the delicate weaving
of bone and skin.
66.
i awoke
i slept anew.
over clear earth
with loosened feet.
and lucid flesh
repaired the ducts that slept
inside my eyes.
absorbing blows that felt
that calculated.
impassive, i remain.
and for now, you refrain.
67.
Beneath the canopy, I walked
I hastened through the night.
Perhaps I thought about the time
I met a girl
and broke my nerves.
Strange memory, for
next to my heart, beneath my breast
my alveoli swelled.
The light had already deepened.
She lived between paper pages
and sang through water and paint
but paper and paint eventually fade.
Now my legs, possessed of a sound
flit across the tarmac, across the sheen
for I no longer believe.
Could I ascend to heights
already bearing a claimant?
I hardly think to say.
I couldn't find a way.
Whilst writing these words,
I lightly conversed
with a veiled girl, who lightly smiles--
her hair a dark curtain,
behind which she hides.
68.
the wounded petals do not face the sun
for the sun has disappeared.
no refractions to light up my skin.
through piles of despondency,
i searched.
but in winter
small, sleeting hopes
turn to slush
on the barren paving stones.
69.
can you see, that i see
your breaches of truth
your unreliable heart's song?
to change in a space, a country.
i was empty,
and the world moulded itself to me.
no needs course through the keyboard
no feelings to relay.
just odd scratchings from amsterdam
and my musings upon old loves.
i drank deep.
my bag cluttered with plastic memories
of swirling drinks and bright eyes.
the rain pattering on the straat
and my stranger's hand that drowned you
seem part of a masquerade
a shakespeare.
and of my desolate place...
i've been there, he said
i smoked a spliff inside.
i realised then
nothing is ever just mine.
70.
they wish their loves were here
i think--
mine is here but not at all.
don't drag this pity from me
lest my tears fall on foreign soil.
flash of hand, my seahorse falls.
***
into the murky harbour
she can breathe easily underwater
so my love is finally free.
but now
my cheeks are scarlet, blood
running through every vessel
and staining my skin.
***
how did i love you best?
too late, too earnestly
or barely at all.
72.
i made a promise, once
through verse not my own.
to filter the distress through lines.
but you swing back and forth,
like a pendulum, so i despair.
and i've seen your ghost
come to a rest on my collarbone--
fit gently in the hollowed curve
where you hide.
i see now that she trapped you too
and so, toujours.
73.
Slow down with the glass, don't drive your fingers through your skull.
Cease pulling strands of hair so short, they hardly seem yours
So little feeling you produce from the yanks.
And let him tell you about your last sunny day, and how if you'd only known...
And don't tell me these jarring piano sounds remind you of home?
A shiver runs through your cotton-clad self, and you could almost be poetic
Except you lack the inner strength.
You regurgitate words from those times you gazed into literature, hoping
To see your reflection gazing back. Narcissus digesting lines.
You long for the days.
When your arms were scarred, your legs were weak but they could carry you
Across miles and countryside on an empty stomach.
All he had to do was kiss you and care for you, a little
And you were his for the taking.
Remember feeling as if a touch could even save you?
And how squeezing your hand could claim you.
But dark thoughts sprang from depths unknown
Only her, confidingly, seeking you from the darkness
But her light gave out.
Through watercolour paints you tried to speak
Through words even, although they failed you.
Eventually you spoke through liquids alone
But where did that leave you?
Falling through cupboard doors and midnight sprints
To taxis - Smith.
Because you couldn't breathe.
And you've been unfair, you've been too wild
You've said hello when you meant goodbye.
And all you can say is,
I've tried.
74.
i cultivate pure veins--
monitoring their shy growth
where they peek through my skin.
but i cannot shine, only dimly aware
of your arms, your voice
and your dance-rumpled hair.
if i say more than five words...
75.
i want to release you from my heart,
a shaking flight across my mind's expanse
where you and i are free.
and i tell myself, it's possible.
and my brow won't cloud when she speaks too loud
and brutalises, brash, brazen.
f**k.
i've nothing to hold or give in turn,
i'm a grave dependency.
and my heart still beats regularly.
but it's not enough.
i want to write the final word,
upon a page that will no doubt resonate
with my true meaning...
with my not-so-hidden feeling.
so, now:
a flourish, a flipside.
la fin.
76.
the clocks spin backwards,
to change it, a chance.
but insides long deadened
could not awake.
and you never appeared.
so ashes rise and dust my shoulders
with their own barrage and meaning
and i cannot find a feeling.
i sigh over cotton and pretend
as you pervade.
every sense and uttered word
your ghost.
warped phantom, no longer friend.
the woodsmoke got under my fingernails,
infiltrated my hair, my clothes, my skin.
i let it in.
77.
it's late, i've learned
that no respite is found
in these unconscious hours.
and instead of him i have,
his clothes that hold me close.
while he sleeps...
you should be asleep.
instead of trawling streets
shedding tears that reach the quiet
of my bedroom, somehow.
and what about me?
i'm still here.
you barely brush my thoughts
you simply faded away.
and it was better that way.
78.
maladroit, my maladroit
some end of summer symphony
where you saw fit to leave me.
impassioned apologies
from a passionless heart
cold that aches to feel
seeks my love and warmth
to steal.
well our hair knotted together
with restless slumber
and i couldn't tell where each strand began
so i took to mine with scissors
and yours became shorter, too.
curls and threads on an empty floor--
i was finally free of you.
because i was just a chrysalis
no butterfly, a drab comparison...
at least
i could love.
maybe break, but i couldn't let you
break me.
then where would we be?
my love became a cold war
for the likes of you and her.
no mistake,
no wish of exchange
you simply say; "i'm sorry"
don't do this to me.
79.
a small perception, a blank
of words and time
and touch.
and i realised then,
we never said anything
that we really meant.
when you wrote reams
that weren't for me,
although they had my name...
a literal take.
80.
exactly a year ago,
fresh out of psychiatry
a new life
was handed to me.
like a charity-shop jewel
it bagged around my shoulders
and fit rather loosely.
so i folded up the green and yellow pills,
with their handy
bipolar-pregnancy-seizure advisory.
i decided that i was allowed to eat.
i would not look at goblin men,
much less buy their fruit.
and soft and fleshy apples
from a shy-eyed girl
seemed the safer thing to do.
yes, it's your birthday
three months
ten days
ago today.
and maybe, like lizzie, you ate the fruit
that caused me pain.
but it was not strength,
nor nobility,
perhaps not even love.
and now you ask me to your door
to see the angel
you dragged from above.
ask me to dose myself with drink
and pretend this unapology
is enough.
81.
happy, happy
birthday.
a year ago today.
i buried my head beneath
a stranger's wings.
tobacco stream.
and through peripherals;
milk and wheat.
that wide-eyed fawn
of green-eyed jealousy,
i thought could prevent me.
i found the scalding beauty
of spirits down the throat,
and i felt for once
i could love.
if you needed a whole heart
you should have left me be.
if i'd spoken rather too harshly
you might have felt something for me.
i give
and give
and give
and falter, when
the snow drove away the leaves.
and pink-scar remnants
were covered up
by black, polyester sleeves.
and maybe the spirit
found its place
within my blood this night.
and maybe tears threatened to fall
when i thought of what
of what might.
if he was here
he'd hug away
these drunken fears.
82.
i waited for you,
sketched nonsense on scraps of paper
sighed, and thought of later.
fresh from the shower, you shoved
a felt knit cap over your damp head.
and glanced in the mirror.
"my hair is long,"
you said "my hair is long, and the ends are thin.
i can feel it where it drapes along my skin."
caressed my tattered ends and said,
"your hair was longer when we met.
back then when we kissed
your eyes would grow wet.
your lips would tremble
your thighs would shudder."
tell me how not to feel.
so i lifted your hair from your bare back
split and clumped together, like glue.
i severed them,
close above your shrinking shoulders.
and thought,
when my hair was long
my tears always fell for you.
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