Tag Archives: epidermis.

leave.

do you know
what it’s like
to be left;
waiting
in the blue.

i hear the words,
i read your stories;
but every time
the same result:
you leave and i wait.

it’s not your fault.

i have felt
the warmth of your love:
immense and like no other.
no one has ever known me
and loved me like you.

i can’t see the page
that ends with you and i.
but i promise to leave
my love at the end
of every road for you.

i wish i could
give you everything
you’ve ever given me.
[i know it’s not enough]
not until time travel allows.

while i wait
for this one to end.
maybe we’ll find our time
in the next life.

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clown.

it is the intense loneliness
that follows the act;
no closer to an actress,
to a performer, to a clown;
but an act all the same.

hear me, look at me, love me;
love me the hardest,
love me the longest,
love me the most,
just please don’t leave me.


magnitude of rejection.

it was a stark realisation –
no magnitude of rejection
could outweigh –
not her body,
not her face,
not her laughter,
or intellect,
or humour,
or interests,
or skills;
in fact,
it was her love
they didn’t want.

it was too much,
it wasn’t enough,
it was too late,
it wasn’t the right time.

in fact, they didn’t want
to be loved by her.


innate.

i feel it pulling
[me] in;
is that how it is
for [you]?

not even
begging, but
knowing i will
surrender.

follow it,
feel it,
obsess and
crave the purge.

i can almost
feel the pain
before i embrace it;
almost etched
into my skin
before i collapse
into the sharp
embrace.

i envy
her willpower
and control.
i envy his
distortion.
i envy the complete
surrender
to a distinction
of control.

this innate;
this blood
that tears through me;
this tremor and
insatiable
imagination.


[o n e d a y] (ii).

in those days
you made me feel
so safe
and i let you
keep me warm.

these days
i beg the universe
to [one day]
allow me
to repay the favour.

[one day]
i’ll get the chance
to show you
i love you –
so much
my heart bleeds.


heat.

back in the hot room,
she remembers:
it’s been 11 years
since he walked out;
10 years
since she ran;
7 years
since he begged her back;
6 years
since she was home again.

back in the hot room,
it all came back:
as the warmth
embraced her body,
so too did the sweet
memories of a love
once unknown
and similarly suffocating.

just like the hot room:
you let it break you,
because you think it’s worth it.


flood.

the flood
of memories
always brings with it
a sharp inhale,
and tight, heavy
boulder in his chest.

he misses
the warmth
of her body beside him;
her laugh,
and the depths of her mind
he ran out of time to discover.

his eyes
are full
of the pain and bruises;
careless rejection,
and the pretense of a friendship
that was over long ago.

his lost
his best friend,
and she’d already forgotten him;
like another possession
taken tragically in the flood,
but easily replaceable.


cup.

another one
for the cup:
cup of sugar,
cup of tea,
cup of soup.

another one
for the cup:
cup of dust,
cup of glass,
cup of blades.

another one
for the cup:
cup of blood,
cup of salt,
cup of hair.

another one
for the cup:
cup of nails,
cup of grass,
cup of pain.


[okay]?

what happened?
it’s okay.

where did you go?
it’s okay.

how’s your heart?
it’s okay.

is it dark?
it’s okay.

are you alone?
it’s okay.

when will it stop?
it’s okay.

why not?
it’s okay.

it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.


stride.

eat my
hand;
draw breath
and see
the raw mist.

call the
question
unearthed
and captured
in real time.

my brain
permanently
intoxicated,
high anxiety
and the dull grey.

watch her walk
see the stride,
a purpose
unknown
but free.

loose flesh
and fish oil
stains;
waiting in
silent terror.

longing sobs;
inevitable loss.
leave quietly
or rather,
don’t let me fall.