We sculpted your face
With whispers
Under covered duvets,
Wet cheeked with love
Dreaming of the day
You would be made.
Eyes peeked
Through strands of damp hair
Bursting with love
And We knew Then,
That we were born
to create.
wild tears
Tonight you held my head
when it was wet
with wild tears.
and you bathed the scars
and the wounds
fresh
with the blood of the night.
you took my screams
and my sadness
and the fear,
and you wrapped it up tight.
and you said
‘it’s going to be alright’.
and that was just enough.
A night out
First, I peel away my old self
Leaving it slumped
in a pile on the floor.
And on goes my new skin
Snug as a sleeve
I get waxed and painted
Changing faces
For the night.
Then come the butterflies
Free in the nights air
Searching for the happy nectar
My poison of choice.
Then it’s bravery
Shoe splitting silliness,
On a restaurant table,
Wild and bewitched
Dancing to myself.
Then it’s the slump
The melt to the floor
Full up and plump
With drink
That threatens to burst my skin.
Then it’s the shame
The walk, the fear.
The sobering up.
It’s the headache and the passing out
It’s forgetting
And replaying.
And regretting.
And doing it all over again.
Knowing
Do you remember that night?
In our first house
When I lay,
Sprawled out across our bed
Limbs opened up from sleep
Like uncurled snail shells
I, softer and younger then
Wearing nothing
But the reflection of the moon
And you, next to me
Painted in shadows
From patterns in the light shade
You looking tired and happy
took your hand in mine
And we decided on forever
Wishes
I wish I could tell you
That I don’t remember
That it didn’t matter
I wish I could tell you
That I wasn’t scared
And it didn’t break me.
I wish I could tell you
That it doesn’t still hurt
That I’ve stopped crying now
I wish I could tell you
That I don’t blame myself
That I should have known better
I wish I could tell you
That it was easy
And you weren’t lucky
I wish I could tell you that
Sometimes.
Until the end
Until the end
Death
Chokes her.
It does not slip
Or sneak or creep
Into her
Tiptoeing through
A long deep sleep.
It is not a twinkle in her aging eye
A crease on her palm
Its not a feeling
Of relief
Or grief.
Its a fight
A war, a bloody battle
Between body and afterlife
Disease and time
Death is shameless
No scruples
Just like she lived
In her life
Death
Is Tyrant.
When the lights go out
When the lights go out
When words aren’t enough
You step outside
Falling
For the night
And the sway of the stars
That settle
Over city roofs
You see bodies
slumped
Like empty shells
Weeping heaps
Of grief or regret.
And you feel your phone
Mocking
in your pocket.
You don’t know your hands
Which stumble
And slip
Against the grip of the phone
Which shatters
Into a plastic corpse
on the ground.
She picks it up
And maybe you peak
At the small of her back
as she bends to the ground
in a swish of her hair
and a wiggle of hips
You want to say thanks
But you won’t get the chance.
It’s one punch from behind
Then your down
You wake to the sound
of your father’s voice.
And your father’s tears
And you feel him.weep.
And the flutter of your heart
That’s trying to beat
As you slip from the scene
Falling
To life’s longest sleep.
