Her.

I won’t leave her.

Isn’t that what they all say? No, they never do. But you know it anyway. You know it because it’s you that he leaves, again and again…

But he did say it. With his head on your chest and your hair wrapped around his fingers… with the taste of your love on his lips he chose her; but you already knew he would always choose her.

So you sit back in your place; and oh, you do know your place now. You cherish the small part of his heart that is yours, but can’t help wonder.. if she gave just a little more, wouldn’t he take it back? Wouldn’t he give it all to her?

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Ash

The old loneliness I treasured, its icy teeth long settled in my flesh were at home.

But this?

Dripping with longing and desire, and traces of trembling fingers on hot skin; with question marks and what ifs..

This is fire and molten rock, it burns through my bones and leaves smoking holes every time you place a soft kiss on the back of my neck, every time you rest your hand on the side of my face.

Yet it’s that same kiss that I await to fill the hollowness, that same hand to piece me back together.

But my love, what if there’s nothing left then? If the blaze leaves only ash in its wake and your final kiss blows me to the wind.

Have you wondered?




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I search your eyes for the pain; not the one from the past but the one that soon comes from beneath that loving gaze. For the blow I now know to expect when I tear down these walls..

But you tear them down with your eyes alone, unwrap my mummified heart and hold it in your hands like the holy grail; this bleeding, shivering corpse..

You undress me with a gentle look, layers and layers of black cloth fall to the ground in a smoking pile and the soft smile at the corner of your lips turns them to ash..

I want to hide my nakedness from you, not the skin but the rotting wounds that will never heal, the pain that clings to my bones like a hideous tumour. But your fingers brush against the side of my face and disarm me, blow the last of my shield to the winds…

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The words had dried on her tongue long ago. But she didn’t dare blow them away, and held on, a mouth full of sand choking her slowly. She carried the heavy bones that were once wings on her back and still searched for the lost lightness in her step.

The tears had dried too but the silent wails never stopped ringing in her ears. Her voice, almost forgotten, quietly hummed an old song in the distance. A ghost, she circled the grave full of all that she was and wished there was name on the headstone; for that, she couldn’t remember…

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Perhaps it’s my turn to pray..

That one day there would be no Goodbyes.

That the sound of closing doors won’t leave lingering emptiness through the nights..

I blow out the candles and the flame in my heart. I welcome the darkness like an old friend yet hope that one day the fire won’t have to go out..

You walk in and the hour glass turns in my heart. The rage settles over my bones.. for the ticking hands of the clock and each second that takes you away, for the water waiting to wash away the smell of my skin from yours..

I squeeze your hands tighter and you slip through my fingers like sand. Your ‘I have to go’ rings in my ears like an air raid siren. I cover my eyes with trembling hands and shrink.. I dare not look again because I know you’ll be gone.

So I welcome the darkness again and pull the pieces of me back together. I lift up my chin like a big girl and walk, one foot in front of the other like my mother said, yet knowing that every step leads me back to you.

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The Cabin

The heat and the blazing fire; the sound of wood burning, of synced heartbeats and slow breaths. It’s late, or too early.. but they don’t know; their love keeps no track of time, no fear of limits or ends.

He begins to pray and her brush freezes on the canvas; she closes her eyes, his silent prayer alive in her ears. The whole world grows still for a while.. then their eyes meet again and smile at each other, a thousand words hidden in a warm gaze.

Now God is with them; on their burning skin and their heavy eyelids, on their lips and the ends of their fingers. They draw close, quietly drifting towards each other like lost stars until they melt together irrevocably, their eternety promised once more..

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I carry the soft drops of sorrow on the end of my fingers. And in my palms the deep pools of love, eternal and unscathed. ..Under the soft touch of his hands I become a vessel, for the sun to settle beneath my fragile ribs and melt the ancient ice in my soul.

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I place this wounded heart on your altar. An offering.

Watch it beat wildly like it always has, this unafraid warrior..

Take it, it’s yours; and do with it as you please…

I pull this noose over my head gladly.. because this one moment, with your sweet voice in my ear and my skin just goose-bumps and heat.. with my heart wild and burning, and my breath unsteady.. this one moment is the heaven I live for. There’s no eternal salvation for me at the end yet I know that I’ll never feel closer to God than when our fingers lock together and our heartbeats sync.

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When I’m say I’m getting old, don’t look at the fine lines under my eyes or the grey hairs growing at my temples. That old I can take because it means I’m alive. If you look inside and my soul is hollow, it is shadow and smoke and I can’t find a girl who was ever young.. When I stare at a broken reflection in a perfect mirror and the smile trying to fool me looks so fucking real, that I can’t even count the layers of bullshit I stacked over it all these years.

And I’m no longer scared of pain. Lately it seems pain is scared of me and it’s hiding. I am searching for it like an old friend to fill this emptiness, to give me an old, cold, comforting thing to feel when numbness buries me alive…

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