The Flicker of a Picture

We hold each other with our eyes. Him hanging over me as I lay back on the foam bed. The gel painting my skin cold while the nurse smiles.

Then we all turn together and face the screen.

In a moment, we become three.

His hand slips over mine. Our fingers lace, connecting us through bone. The nurse pushes down hard. Our shape comes to life in waves of white, no bigger than a whisker.

Twelve weeks and two days the nurse says.

And he turns his head from the screen. His hand trembles in mine

It’s not your fault I say

You didn’t choose this disease

She wipes the gel with a tissue that feels rough and I pull my top down to my waist.

No need to book another scan I say

And she prints me off a picture

That I know I can’t keep.

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Creating

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

 

 

from friends to lovers

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

night sky

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

sad

 

 

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.