PostScript.

Good morning

Light

I have missed you all these years

Your thick waist and tousled hair

Led me only to tears.

Hello,

Friend

Thank you for those conversations

About endless wants and selfless needs

I didn't realise I had.

This may be the second time we have met

And the last time we shall speak,

But I assure you

Friend

I will not miss the English you speak.

Mermaid. (For Jess)

Her head was resting on my pillow before
we had ever met,
they were her secrets I would find on my lips
in the light of morning.
This universe between us begun quietly, clumsily.

We wriggled through endless heartbreak,
giggling at their loss.
We slept under the cover of salty moonlight
and woke with our blonde hair tangled.
She tattooed her name on my wrist.

She burns so brightly in the ink of night,

this city was nothing before her kiss.

She finds her strength in pain,

her words are more precious than oysters flesh,

To hear her melody; my tears and blood to her I'd give

When she's burnt out, engulfed in her grief

I'll give my breath so she can live.

When I am cold, she is everything that is warm,

she is the hand I hold in my sleep.

And so we are neither them or they,

But you and I,

And will always be.

xxx

Espresso at 12

A hole in the wall and a coffee machine, 

The happiest I've been in years

As I listened to you talk and answered all your questions

I dreamt of home and the utter brilliance of

My love

Sweet Dreams

Under the covers of midnight and no stars,

those who shed skins start turn the non-believers,

the takers into givers.

Fathers killing daughters, 

turning sons in soldiers,

what really left to lose, when you're the first to strike a match.

Knotted

The road is long, when your brakes are shot

and the haze is messing with your head.

The road is long, but with what you left behind theres

gotta be something better up ahead.

The wheels are spinning round,

its such a beautiful sound leaving that tangled mess in your bed.

The road is long when your chasing the sun

because dusk could swallow you whole.

You press you foot down harder than you ever have

trying to out run static rock and roll.

But the wheels are spinning round

& it's such a beautiful sound, leaving that tangled mess in your head.

Bright Eyes

It's always late at night the cliches come pouring in;
looking at our mistakes through rose coloured glasses,
seeing plenty of fish and spices.
Maybe it's your turn now to stand where I stand.
But my eyes are still bright and my jeans are clean this time,
I threaded that needle for you.
What if I could fall through, into these dreams of yours
and write my name all over them
and then I'd know what you'd think of me,
we'd never give up.

Homeless

The sum of me is this;
there is more life in my death,
than there was in my life.

Calves.

Save my place,
next to you is where I belong.
It's never make or break,
when we're this strong.
Love,
we could never fall apart
my darling,
we're still young.

Battlefield.

The cold and comfort of just surviving

sits in chain stores, on their shelves.

That gasp of breath between your last

screaming tear and the strength to get out of bed

is stacked neatly underneath the sink

in case you feel like reaching for the knife

instead.

Promise

The good you saw in me was what got my attention.

I saw you look into my eyes when I spilled words,

and watched your jaw clench when I struggled to smile.

But we had become an endless cycle of love & hurt,

it tore me apart, entirely.

I slept too little, and wore little badges of worry

to work each day.

You slept too much, leaving the smallest amount of daylight

to deal with.

We spoke about how things would get better,

my heart broke so many times I couldn't believe I

was still able to feel the pain.

I hated knowing that were never doing ourselves justice,

never giving in to the only two we would be.

I changed it all though, in an instant.

I was the one that made it all too real.

I thought I knew the best form of suicide;

to kill myself so well there was nothing to left to recognise.

So I hurt myself stupidly running away from you, 

and yet you laid me down to gently dress my wounds.

I'm not sure that I will be able to forgive myself,

and I know I will die inside if I ever have to see

someone else's hand in yours.

I guess there was more damage beneath than we realised,

and we might both have to take the blame for that.

But forever, my eyes will see nothing but where you should be standing,

and my lungs will only open up once you're in my air.

I never wanted out of the me & you,

I want in for always,
for everything,
for good.

Crept.

All of a sudden i'm soaked
through and through
and the truth you told turned
everything else into lie.

Lucifer.

What's constant here is my slipping away.
The canyon in my mind deepens every day,

taking my bones away and threatening
the gaps in my breath.
I haven't stopped listening to the static on the radio,
reading the fine print in the newspapers;
I know it's in there somewhere.
But,
if it isnt,
if I can't save from falling,
it was loving you, more than words can say,
that made me want to see the sunrise
of just one more beautiful day. 

Capture.

I saw others in your eyes
and felt that familiar tug
of floor out from beneath
and warmth of bathroom tiles.

A.

Because it's this year and this now,
because I'd like to think I could be the type of person not to blame you for their mistakes,
because illogically I'm darkest at the surface.
I have a list of reasons that I could use,
and pretend that in them somewhere, lies the perfect explanation of why I am
more of a picture than a person.
But when I look at you I realise
I just don't know.

Low.

Every now and then
I look over see you as a stranger,
thinking about things you've said
and wondering if this will
turn into an ache I won't forget.

You know you can tear me up,
turn me into scraps of old newspaper.
I think this time I cared too much,
wanting more from every letter
that you spoke.

Now I guess we'll never know
just what could have been hiding
in our corners,
and when I listen to the radio
songs are playing that I never really noticed.

Ink.

I stopped growing when I was nineteen,
I marked it on my bedroom wall with fat black line.
That same year I spoke to my father,
the first and only time.
He sounded so dirty, like the floor of a biker bar.
The gravel in his unfamiliar voice tore a layer off my skin.
When I hung up the phone, I was all shiny and new. Like I stepped out
of a scalding bath.

Late at night, when I can't sleep, un-missed lovers tessellate on my walls,
painting portraits of oh my god.
Late at night, when I can't sleep,
I find it comforting to imagine I can slowly take my flesh off
my bones,
that I can rearrange my body into something worthy.
Sleep is so very peaceful when it is filled with dreams of a beautiful,
mutilated me.

I can curse the history books for teaching me
lessons I never learnt my self,
but I will forever bless the boys who locked me up
in concrete cellars
for the light (of my life) at dawn and my methylated spirit.

Sheltered.

Stainless words like razorblades,
I'm mostly sure that they are mine
flicker in the back of my mind
like a rain drenched 3am.
Twine and string of inadequacy and boredom,
smoothed by my curling fingers,
strand by strand into a beautiful braid
of never again
and I wish I never had.
The walls now smell like my old tweed coat,
just because you hated it,
and the dishes reek of your pin stripe suit
because they are all so fucking dirty.

Heave.

Weighing down each strand of hair,
the aching truth of being half alive.
I'll forever sit in the shade of dripping
whores and sleep in a rocky divide.

Blushing.

The deepest blue you have ever seen
translating me into this.

There are days I sleep through purposely
just for some pain relief,
the glass I set on the doorknob has never
shattered through my dreams.
Those lines I like to cross knowingly
show how close we could have been,
so I let my wounds breathe beneath blankets
of all our tasteless histories.

I follow packs of dogs through woods,

jealous of their warm bodies.

Victorious.

I told myself
when the sun hits the pavement,
you can breathe again.
I said
this time you aren't the
rotten fruit
at the bottom of the box.
This time,
darling
it looks less like you
and more like him.
This time,
this fucking time,
I didn't let us down.