I'm smoking my fourteenth cigarette of the night
and listening to a storm shatter against
my window

my mind is folding backwards to when
we first met, the most important raindrop
in history, caught in my eyelash

that you gently kissed away.

In April, I look forward to the showers.
to puddles gathering at my feet, that I
can splash about my boots.

Daffodils bringing yellow smiles,
spreading like honey across fresh
growing grass.

I remember your kiss
and the raindrop

as I listen to the violent, wild winds
of Tezcatlipoca, washing away
that single, fateful

drop

A hook
an eye for an eye
hanging helpless
at the end of
your line

I've raged war with the heavens
rattled the bars of my cage
until they came loose
fearing the judgement of a God
I no longer believe in
talking to angels no one else
can see
I am through treading on eggshells
timid and tender to the slightest touch
I will eat poisonous berries with dirt
covered hands, unafraid of the
consequences. I am a black hole
waiting to implode, and you
are no longer the centre of
my universe

Your breath is like honey,
a warm trickle on the back
of my neck, your kisses
sweet and deep as the
ocean

I have a craving for
sugar now, an insatiable
sweet tooth, mouth open
wide and ready to
devour

one more touch and
I am transformed into
something more than
just a woman

dressed in rags
and begging for one
more mysterious
meeting of lips

(One more gypsy kiss)

like a thief in the night
you have taken me
like the sea

like the night
the darkness
the stars

we are so much
older, now

yet we are
young enough
to know the
sweetness of
a supernova

as a chil of the universe
I should know better
than to let my heart be swallowed
by the black hole that is you

My past is not yours
to play with,

my insecurities not yours
to doubt,

my weaknesses not yours
to exploit,

my temptations not yours
to tantalise,

I have shattered the bars of
us,

switched the light on to your
indecency,

grown a rage in my soul that threatens
to overspil,

I have broken up the beams of light
that lingered between our hearts,

seeing only in the dark,
blinded yet clear,

the world which once turned around you,
now spins to the beat of my

(and
only
my)

heart

My battle scars
are words

once whispered into
an idle ear

a poor piece of
history

left scattered at
the entrance of

love

My world tilts towards you, always
In the cracks between our two realities
In the corner of the mirror, that reflects back my True Self
You are not whole, right now, still moulding into the shape of the boy I love
Yet, this mailable, weak, shifting form
In which you’ve shown yourself to me tonight,
is enough to make me weep

I entered the room
that you shared with a girl
whose hair was as gold
as honey, hiding a mind
as wild as a storm,
              
the night rattled against the door,
stars beating against the frame,
their fire desperate to burn
a hole through the wood,

possessed, deluded, she walked
the halls barefoot, talking to
the moon with it's face
white as arsenic and
just as deadly

and just when the stars
began to falter, she wavered
and turned, half smiling
and said,

'I fooled you all,

I fooled you,

yet again'

You are the key
he said,

but my heart
is not

the lock

tick

tock

stop

The air swirls
through the still
night and I want
to be with you

I should know better
than to turn to
you

but feelings
can't replace
the facts

the way your arms
hold me

the way my head
just fits into
the crook of
your neck

It's a heart wound
that's fatal, that
bleeds over everything,
colouring and staining
the sheets, my skin,
my eyes

I should be out
hunting, painting
the town red

and I am

but I don't think
I'm doing it right

there are thousands
of boys out there

boys that don't break
in the morning

boys that don't pick
your heart apart

boys that don't kick
you

or tie scarfs around
your neck

but the bruises
always heal

and the thought
of waking up
next to someone
who loves me
just isn't enough

to stop me
loving
you for
hating me

I am here,
sort of, I guess
physically I
exist

I have bones
and pink
cheeks

but it doesn't feel
like living

just existing

breathing with
these muscles
that sit so close
to the one that's
dying

and I thought
you would call me
tonight

but the phone
didn't ring

even when
I wasn't looking
at it

I didn't think it was
possible to hurt like
this

I didn't believe
that men could
stamp on
your heart

feel it spread
beneath their feet

and not
care

It's an echo of war

a battle no-one can
remember fighting

or winning

but we know that
we are the
losers

somehow

even if we can't
see it

It's an echo of war

a battle no-one can
remember fighting

or winning

but we know that
we are the
losers

somehow

even if we can't
see it

It's five-thirty
when I walk
barefoot and
hesitant

eyes wide open
against the
dark

towards the place
I last kissed
you

I can hear
your lungs
lift and fall

lift and fall

like I fell
for you

I am wearing
one of your
shirts

it's sleeves hang
loose

I can almost
wrap them
around me
twice

my stomach
clenches and thinks
of breakfast

cups of coffee
and newspapers
to argue over

our kitchen is
bright and clean
red gingham curtains
like the ones
little girls

dream of

scrubbed wooden
table and chairs

each with a leg
that needs to
rest upon
a book

I'll pass you the
milk and sugar

smile into
my cereal
bowl

tell you where
you left you
car keys

stand in the
doorway waving
you off to work

I reach down
through the black-
ness

to where I think
your blanket
is

searching for the
soft corner of
warmth

my fingers touch
nothing but
air

my feet are
freezing

I hear the clock
strike six

and wake
up

There are easier ways to die

I told him
over steaming
cups of tea
that we cradled
and tended to like
children

he would have me
wandering, crawling
from room to room,
like a beast consumed
with the hunger for
dead meat

I've heard him talking
to himself at night,
sitting, smoking,
staring out at stars

I know I've left
scars on his heart

his eyes blue
from the effort
of trying to
to break

but I wake up
each morning,
checking my hair
before I touch
his face

I let him sleep
and take the pillow
case off, shred it
with my hands,
burn it with the
hate that rises
like heat inside
me when I know
that it will be
the same
tomorrow

we used to
fit into each
other effortlessly

now my bones
stick out and
catch the small
of his back like
a spike

six more months
they say and all I
see is my skin
sagging, my stomach
sinking, my heart
beating less and
less

it hurts to know
he hates the things
I think, the thoughts
I can't make him see

There are easier ways to die

than to be eaten
bit by bit
to the bone

Ink runs from the end of my fingers
as easily as blood trickles out
of a wound

spitting words that melt
in the air

teeth blackened by
the ashes of prose

I would swallow them
down if I could

but each one
bangs on the back
of my closed lips

begging to be
free

to fly off
my tongue
into nothing-
ness

Twig by twig
we built our home
like birds

in the winter
we froze
together in a
raindrop

our faces
suspended forever
inside a tear

branches sway
in the breeze and
we fight

to remain

here

in the air

where we can
refrigerate
our hearts

pretending not to
feel the wind
ripping our skin
apart

and the rot
that grows
in the cracks

This is where
our idle walking
ends

the crunch of
winter leaves
beneath our boots

stops

we reach a kissing
gate that tells us
we're in

memory

when our thoughts
met with kindness

soft whispers
in the soil

hearts planted
so deeply that
even the storms
do not shake them

one of our hands
reaching for the
other, to touch,
to bruise

scratching, crawling
out from the Earth
like a dead
thing

utterly mad
but strangely
beautiful

They say that death isn't a disease,
that you can't spread it
like a virus
from mouth to mouth
or in a blown kiss

but each time I touch your skin
I hear my heart in my head
blood pulsing, lightly at first
But fiercer the longer my fingers
lick the shell of you
like flames

I look into your eyes, sometimes
despite myself
and see the burst blood vessels
spread out like a drop of paint
in a puddle

I know that our hearts
are about to give up on us
and that it will be
no lightning bolt
of passion
of bursting love
of feeling too much

they will just die
like a story dies
when there is no-one left
to listen to it

I can't help but think
of the life we
could have had
if we'd waited

instead of clinging madly
onto each other
desperate to shake off
the fever of the last ones
we'd touched

I lost her on my way to
Lightness

A shaking shadow that could not take form
Without me

Holding my hair back, stroking
The stretch marks we made together

The only tangible memory

The white blankets
Over the mirrors

The locks on the fridge

To keep our hearts
From filling up

To be emptied
Like a trash can

Once a week

The cuts on my knuckles
Will fade

Skin will grow back like plants
That skip a summer

The catch in my throat that is the
Air between our bodies

The gaps between our thigh
Bones

Cigarettes leave their traces of
Yellow stamps on my fingers

And I smoked so many with you

We're drinking tea
from chipped mugs
again, like we do
every morning

dropping sugar
grain by grain
until the sweetness
settles on the top
like a second
skin

we wake up before the alarm sounds
first a minute to ****
and then two

as we sleep
closer night after night
our legs wrapped up
like a song
lyric

I wispered Eliot into your ears, you would leave it
on Post It notes on
the fridge

we don't have photographs there
our love is not
visual

it is in touch
of breath against
neck at midnight

the tightening grip
of strong arms
around as I shake through another bad night

we know how we taste
and smell

the strawberry shampoo
that makes you want
to wrap my hair
around your tongue

I fit into you like
a fossa

our fingers resting
on the ucho
of our tea cups

In your eyes
I see a thousand
sunsets, oranges
and reds that
melt like honey,
on hot bread,

in your eyes
I see a thousand
ways to say
goodbye

Please remember me
in this moment

as we gaze into
each other's eyes

whole solar systems
collapsing

in milli -
seconds

of doubt

a sweetness that
lingers on the lips

like sugar, that turns
to paste upon

the tongue when it
meets the moistness

of your mouth

I am not your
lullaby

nor your temptation
taken out of

time

I am just a girl
you loved once

not for a lifetime
nor an infinity

but just

in this moment

I used to think mysef
a Romany

reading palms
and wearing golden
bangles

layers of purples
pinks and reds

adorning my body

but your love
turned me into
nothing but

a Tinker

stealing purses
from unsuspecting
well dressed women

and pocket watches
from pinstriped suited
men

I never said I was
guiltless

but your love
made me nothing
but ashes in

the fire pit of
Hell

What about the moon -
waxing under God's gaze
turning the arc of the tide
into a smile or a
crash of anger

I do not pretend
to know it's secrets,
painted in the sky,

only to be seen
at the fall
of night

We used to climb through
the broken fence and
visit the ancient
Ash tree that
stood, splendid
and solidatary

we would wrap our arms
around it, our fingers
far from touching

in our minds we would
disect the trunk and
count the rings, ageless
it was, beyond
number

we would sit
beneath it’s branches,
that reached out like
arms, hands desperate
to be held

it’s leaves would fall
in autumn, we would kick
their red and orange
offerings, disrespectful
as to where they
had come from

I still go to to it,
sometimes, I still
listen for it’s song

but it is dead
and quiet

without her

Our names are burnt
into the stars
like secrets
waiting to explode

I believed you every time
like a child might believe that they're safe

(untouchable)

as long as their parents are
in sight

But I am no longer a child

(because of you)

and I should have learnt by now
that I can't stem the tide's consumption
of everything we've built

(our glass grain castle)

with a memory of a kinder time
and a polaroid

Like so many that fall here
I am hollow

The tendons of my neck
the open grave of sunken
skin and bone

Telling to story that language can't

It was like a spell,
a wild moment of black magic,
arithmetic bliss

hunger the only antidote
to the poison I swallowed

a childhood stolen
and replaced with a
decade cracking ciphers

years fell against me
like electrocuted trees

people hear the crash
and turn to look
at first, but soon
navigate their way
around the wooden
corpse

my twig-ed fingers
creeping out from
underneath, black earth
and ***** nails, a dead
thing crawling to reach
a last lungful of
dusty air

I hated him for denying me
a fight

leaving in the morning
like a dream

through the slightly open window
and rippling curtains

There is a comfort in shouting
words bouncing off the walls
like bullets

I wanted to give him
an exit wound

but I turned over to find
an empty pillow

We were two kids
kicking bricks
as our legs
hit the wall

I never thought we'd
grow up

we were Peter Pan
and Tinkerbell

dressed in greens
of different shades

dressing up
meant nothing
back then

becoming someone else
was easy

now we no longer fight
over who gets to
pick first

from the wooden chest
of characters in the attic
of my Mum's house

(with the big yellow
kitchen that smiled
like the face of a
'well done' sticker)

we only kiss when
the kids are
watching

a peck on the cheek
that hurts as much
as the time I
broke my arm
with you

I like to think
that it's you that's
grown out of
loving me

(the way that you
grew out of your
shoes between
school terms)

but that's
too kind

His fingers were too long,
patched with nicotine stains
and traces of my DNA

I gave him that small
part if myself, a tiny scrap
of evidence he could keep

He knew that I'd send
no-one looking for it

I knew he'd want to
remember me

He knew I'd have
no choice

He left bits of himself
in my hair

drandruff flecks

On the hip of my jeans
there are snowflakes

Droplets of ice
that have frozen
and expanded over
time

They've spread like
the thread of a silkworm

Tying me to the night
we met

You liked
    to run your fingers
            through my hair,
                twisting each strand into a smile

You liked
    to trace your fingers
            over my scars,
                fluttering, tapping out the rhythm of your thirst

You liked
    to run your fingers
            down my back,
                marking each bone with a kiss

Claiming the territory
                            
you know own

After she died,

I would sit in the kitchen
For hours

Kneading bread
Into the bones
Of her

I thought she wasn't
Looking

Or couldn't see

But a part of me
Felt sure
She could still
Smell

The air
Sweet with
Honey

And
Rise
Again

Like flour

Through a fog of sleep
I feel you

turn your head
towards me in your
sleep

arms reaching through
the blankets

I am living,
bones brittle,
waterfalls of hair
soaking the pillows

dying for those quiet
moments in the dark
when I know you're
watching me

the moments when
I exist, like a shadow
eating sunlight, in your
eyes

Your lips taste
of gin, the feel of
chipped teacups
and taste of
broken biscuits

but you are not
that seventy-something
really, despite the
paper-like skin that shows
the blue train tracks
feeding your heart

I am hoping that it
cracks, like a
chemical burn,
I want to hear
the skin splitting,
spitting out the
lemon juice of
your jeers

your eyes are
my mirror, black
and loveless

stinging, still
with lemon
pips

(I)

They called us
unremarkable

but I knew you would always
find me

a voice that pushed
through the darkness

with a thunderous roar
if I needed it

or in a whisper lighter
than air

(II)

They said that the sharing of graves
was archaic

like a hand still clasping  
a pocket watch

but we had our names down
for a plot

regardless

(III)

We'd been writing epitaphs with pencils
until they let us use pens

on plastic chairs that creaked
with the slightest touch

hands hidden inside black sweaters
legs like shaking magnets

desperately defying

science

(IV)

In this child's theater
we sat watching

attendance assemblies
and merits

being handed out by shapes
we'll forget when we're

twenty

(V)

Now we're older we get Shakespeare
and musicals

the noise is louder now
and easier to crawl under

we pretend to understand
the complexities of the words

to take meaning from
soliloquies  

that feelings are more
than just a hand on a heart

(VI)

Instead we rise
from our seats

red plush velvet that
smells of forgotten stories

believing more than ever
in that childish love

from years ago

This carpet is
alive

a thousand ants
scuttling
scratching
the back of
my neck

I know your tongue
is blue before it is
inside me

Cheap alchopops
topping up glasses
of cheaper *****

You don't smoke
anymore but
I am still passively

Choking in the fumes
that trigger off
those pleasure
receptors in
your brain

Is this why
you're doing
it?

Is it just
a greater
pleasure?

I am thankful
for the adults
water you gave me

Liquid lullabies
that buzz gently
in my brain

Whilst you strip

The days blend together
in the way that coffee
blends with milk, and tea
with sugar

licking the spoon
clean, white spots
that blister
in your mouth

books stand around
like lay figures

two weeks overdue
and full of dead
things, creatures
that have nestled
between the leaves

insects
that have bitten
the dust

the pages are stiff
to turn, starched
spines that creak
beneath fingers

the days blend together
and I sit, drinking tea
between the cracks
and falling into words
I'll never read

Two cups of coffee
- unsweetened - untouched
sit on the table, smiling,
between us

chair legs creaking
like old bones
as we pull away
from each other

hands crossed
cracked from washing
with bleach at midnight,
breaks in the middle of
meetings and meals

the table is glass
and when the light
hits it we have no
choice but to look
at each others
eyes

desperate, passive,
almost dead

I can see the words
sticking in his throat
but I'm not going
to help him set
them free

he can ask
me

Is it over
now?

Imagine,
old bones

fed with milk
and memories

breaking

turning
into
dust

scattering
like ashes

falling like
the petals
pulled off
a flower
in Spring

I know that
I will be him

with songs
playing on
the canvas
Of my skull

counting down
days like
pennies

the worthless copper
in their pockets

the tips that
no-one would
take

It was the lifeline
you offered,
that the idiot
in me cling to,
despite myself,

like a drowning
man clings
to a rope,

thrown out
in the hope
of saving
a life,

only the lips
of my heart
closed around
it like a mouth,

shoved it down
deep, like a shot
of whiskey downed
at midnight,

your alcohol
stained breathe
soft against my
neck,

but I am not
drowning, no,
I am treading
water, always,

I will be treading
water until another
comes along,

with harsh hands
and cruel words,

you see the ribs
around my heart
were built to shatter,

and you are too
kind to break
my bones

at one point
I couldn’t walk
five metres from
a car to a
hospital door -
way

starved for weeks
until hunger didn’t hurt,
until the numbers
blurred

at one point
I drank *****
out in the street,
drenched in rain

restrained by
two emergency
department security
guards who did not
understand why

I was smashing my
wrist into the
floor

at one point
I drank a pint
of water and made
myself sick

over and
over

rinse
repeat

I tried to die
afraid to live
scared of the
men who lurked
like spectres in
my dreams

they are the
cause of my
pain, of the
letters after
my name

a badge of
insanity

at one point
I hope to want
to live

Your goodbye
is an ocean

over bones,
the waves wash
leaving
salt stars

the more I drink,
the more my thirst
increases

growing, like
coral, away from
the seabed

I’d paint my face
with the smiles
I stole from
playgrounds
if you looked
closely, you would
see my knees
bruised and bloodied
from falling off the
swings, swinging
into the air like
a fearless bird
but I have no
wings
and fall
like hail
from the sky
onto the
asphalt

She comes
into my room
like fire

a flame
thrown
into the
path of
a nightmare

like the
sun reflected
in the eyes
of water

shaking
walls

black sheets
burning

the smell
of stray
hairs that
have abanded
me

during the
night

When your hand
shook in mind
hope hit my heart like
a gun shot

my mind flickered
like the street lamps
falling, like stars
into the night

I moved here for
anonymity, a peck of
dust, they promised,
where to look too long
at anyone, is to look
too long at
yourself