Every word's a path,
each sentence a tree
and all attached to a stump of a woman
thin at the base then growing in circles,
until age is defined by height,
her illness by weight.

How can the wood of trench walls
look so lucid, perspex branches
contorting into string in the wind,
knotting air into eddies keeping them
floating right there?

Wanted: v.; to desire, to lack

I wanted you to be the stars to my sky --
I would have let you form
galaxies and constellations
to the edge of infinity,
in whatever shapes you pleased.
I wanted you to be the pen,
while I, the paper,
let you write across me,
telling me your story,
blending it with mine.
You were the avalanche
to my echoing heartbeats:
unstable, unstoppable,
a snowflake turned by rage
into a force incomparable.
You were the thunder
to my summer storm:
inconstant, intemperate,
a distant reminder
of things worse to come.

I wanted you to be a sonnet,
but instead you were an elegy
for a love unrequited.

And I would hold your hand,
but I can grasp a pen;
and it makes me free to know
that unlike you
the pen
will not
let go.

Take my hand to continents only known in the books,
the blue maps on tiny tables sat in stacks
ready for the lesson on Mexico, or thereabouts- third this week because
the timetable is weak, poorly thought through and cobbled
together out of half-dressed evenings in the lounges of
teachers; ones once loved by the master and mistresses, leaders
of the well dressed and caretakers.

Take my feet and walk with them, balancing
on borders separating language and currency,
the gymnast's beam looking out over the forestry,
its taller trees than you and me standing upon toes tipping
down towards the urgent ground, urgently warning to stay
upright and stick around, with her holding your hand.

I want you to explore me
And find my untold scars
My beauty marks,
My cuts and bruises

I want you to explore me
And find my secret sadness
Lurking in my eyes,
Under my broken smile

I want you to explore me
And find my hidden secrets,
My sadistic thoughts
That I haven't told a soul

*I want you to explore me

it's rained all week
grey drop
after grey drop
the city is crying
the bums rush to shelter
in doorways
and under bridges
the people sit with their feet up
in their comfy sweatpants
and hoodies
drinking warm cups of tea
the animals
are out in the wet
grinning
and howling at the moon
drinking up the tears
of the crying city

I want to stand in the middle of a thunder storm
With you in the pouring rain
Looking into the cryptic sky
Feeling the rain run down our face
The thunder in our chest,
The zap of lightning in our fingertips
The rush of adrenaline,
Oh this is what I live for