there is a world in your
fingertips, you just have to
find the space where your
soul meets the clouds,
where your heart breaks the
barrier between heaven and hell.
the first time a boy bruised
my knees and left me broken,
my father asked me what I
had been wearing
and my mother told me to
be stronger, to fight the tears
and the urge to die because
I was better than that. I’ve been
choking on ice, frozen in my
lungs for years. for the words that
will never surface and the ghosts
that step out of the shadows
but only when I am alone, and I
am alone so much now that I
almost welcome the monsters.
and I get so lonely, that sometimes
I want to die just to see if there
really is a heaven or only this hell
that I’m living.
there are cracks in this heart and
an ocean in these irises that cannot
i remember when I had a castle that
soothed my trembling soul and would
wrap its walls around my bruised elbows,
i used to have knees that could only
be kissed by your lips, touched by your
fingertips, where did you go?
i lie in the bath feeling small or in front
of a train and i want to jump, i want to
remember having something to live for.
i have questions that mesmerise my mind
and haunt my ears, tears that leave my
eyes rushing like a river.
(why did you stop loving me?)
you can’t expect to fall in love
with anybody when you don’t
have a heart to give away.
you can hold the hands of
strangers and even kiss them in
the dark but if you don’t have a heart
to give away, what’s the use?
you are not anybody’s
exception and you shouldn’t
wait for the boy with blue
eyes and a rollercoaster
you shouldn’t wait for boys
with words as sweet as honey,
clinging to your lips when they
have actions of ice and a crumbling
heart of charcoal.
I think I shall take a lover,
with flushed cheeks and wise
eyes. he will have a silent laugh
that you can feel through his
he will ask about my day but he’ll
care more about my week or month
because that is the bigger picture.
I think I shall take a boy that is loving
and enjoys tea shops and walking on
the beach even when it’s stormy.
i cannot stay where you did not,
goodnight boy of steel and ore.
i cannot leave to find a place without
you, if you keep coming back.
tell me the words to heal the past,
to wash away the multiple times we
fucked up until our hands were raw
and our bones were bleeding.
we’re bleeding. ancient and organic,
frigid and fragile, we’re watering a
love that cannot exist in a meadow
overrun with dying weeds.
my throat is sore from wishing on
stars that you weren’t gone.
where do we go when our bones
are aching and we’ve run out of
places to hide, that aren’t full of
we could lie below weeping
willows, or in a field of poppies.
perhaps crows will even dance at
our feet as we fall asleep.
how many ways is there to say
that I’m losing my mind again?
that i have a puddle of tears at
five am that I cannot explain. that
I have a world of sleeplessness and
that I can’t fight,
that I can’t fight when I’m so exhausted.