I still miss you, sometimes.
In the aching quiet of the night
When my thoughts wander to the smiles
And the laughs, and kisses.

I remember how you looked at me,
Like I was the answer to a thousand questions
I know you answered all of mine
Or at least, you did at the time.

You taught me lessons.
Like how to sing freely,
And how to love
Both openly and cruely.

I'm starting to forget your voice
And the way your hand fit in mine.
The smell of your skin
Has long since been washed from my sheets

I know we'll never be friends
You don't want to see me again.
And that's alright.
Thanks for the adventure.

I burned my tongue
while looking out the window

I couldn't help but find irony
in the juxtaposition of hot
and terrible cold

I see a familiar gray figure

the notion of feeling like
your stomach is splitting in two
in the good way

but it's just my mind playing tricks on me

I wish so strongly
to find you out there in stormy weather

cold
shaking

so I could take you inside
dry you off
and hold you until
the shivering subsides

not here, here, here

inside, outside, her head
bath tub, bubbles shaped
like balloons, rising
in the air,
cut open, she
precludes the secret nature
of her love,

he loved, her
every ballet she danced
pink fur, a butterfly moving,
on tips of toes,
tripping the light, en pointe
painted pale lips,
winged eyeliner, corset
silk, golden embellished,
Lacroix,
feathered tutu, romantic
Tchaikovsky's compositions,
faery tale ballets,
Swan Lake, Paris Opéra
Odette, a sorcerer's curse
falling to her fate, black
later, taxi rides home, kissing
moonlight, bedroom laughter,

KNOCK

not here, here, here

the bathroom door,
she kisses away,
her melancholy madness,
his voice; *Laurier...
her soul, punctured
by her lover...

not here, here, here

© Sia Jane

you're lovely.
sweet
but there's an acidic quality about you,
one that stings
reminding of every scrape and cut.
but me,
I'm resilient.

I like to think each soul is a story.
I like to pretend that every person has a tale inside of them, waiting to be told.
I like to fantasize about what type of story each person contains.
I like to wonder what type of story I contain.
Is my story a sad tale of misery and sorrow?
Or is mine an exciting, action-packed manuscript?
Or is it an enthralling, romantic love novel?
Or is it a warning, for others out there like me?
I like to pretend that there are whole worlds swirling around
Inside each and every person around me, waiting to be set free.
But then, maybe I'm not pretending after all.

{alaska}

i can see the muscles strain on your
back when you lay alongside me, they
look like rib cages and i lay there too
and envisage that when you sleep i could
reach in as a spirit and seize your heart
and feel it pulsing in my palm.
it would tickle my fingertips and
send waves up my arms to my brain and
my backbone would quiver, overpowered
with ache. i would inhale deeply making
your heart in sync with my notions
i would be able to control the flow of
your blood, i could smother it and
clutch it so tight that it swells. i would imagine
that it inflated so because you were dreaming
of me clutching your heart.

If i could have your arms as a pillow, i would bring it everywhere, even on the bus. I would wrap it around me if i was cold. I would put half of it on my shoulders if i was at the cinema. I would put them behind me if i was looking at the sea, and make it squeeze around my
stomach until i felt you in my bellybutton.

I want to be a fish gliding through your veins, come out of your mouth and kiss every millimetre of your lips.

I would make your hair a hat and in the morning i would run it through my fingers, i would drag it up my stomach and around my chest and have it entwine with mine, resting near my nose and stay like that until your smell was gone.

I want to sit under a blossom tree with the sun coming through in little streams.
Only with you.

I want to sit infront of the painting 'scream' for five hundred hours, so when i look at you, you would be even more beautiful.

I want to watch every breathtaking sunrise come up from behind your face. See your eyes glisen, with morning moisture and yellow light.

I want you to always be happy. Your heart shimmers in your eyes. When it is not there,
neither am i.