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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And though the head
held high had faced
a thousand winters, and
the steady hand had waved
a thousand swords,
you dared to fight for
what they all worked hard
to destroy.

And your head dropped;
and your hand trembled.

You stood against monsters
who never stopped
rising from the ground;
And you never fell.

But when he traced your veins
with his fingers,
You wept.
For warmth had never touched you before.

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I can’t write because I can’t feel. My wildness crushes against the wall that he built and I choke on the words. I can’t write because I can’t see. His fears wrap around my eyes, a thick blidfold; and I wear his smile on my soul like a pair of glasses. I’d be blind if I let it go.

The air grows thick in my lungs when I hear the lock turn behind me. I swallow the sweet lump in my throat as a faint shiver slips down the back of my neck. His first step fills the room with blasting fireworks and I watch him with the corner of my eye, faking composure.

I can’t stop my head from turning to welcome his tender eyes to the place they’ve already carved in my soul. My heart settles into an unknown rhythm, perhaps his own. Perhaps God was playing a wicked game when he made us forbidden, and our hearts beat in sync..

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I’m watching his quivering fingers, fast thumbs tapping on the screen.. the soft lines that deepen on his forehead as he frowns, barely, then lifts his eyes to meet mine and they sparkle! A million stars crowded in a soft gaze. He blinks and wipes them away.

I imagine my face glows too, as I feel my heart bloom like a flood of peonies when his lips slowly curl into the faintest smile. Our eyes light the fire and, for a brief moment, it warms the blood in us both.

I look away, count my breaths to calm the storm that rose inside me and let the dark cold settle back on my bones. This flame is forbidden; my eyes close.

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Airless

Did you ever wonder why I had to be drunk

every time

you touched me, I shrunk.

You knew, so you’d pour me a glass,

perhaps you thought I was shy

enough to want to black out

before we fuck

me

up.



You pull me into this embrace and whisper

‘Relax, hug me..’

And I wrap my arms around your back

But they’re made of lead and they hang

limp.

I try to breathe but the air

is thick in my lungs like molasses.

So I stand there, airless and stiff in your enormous arms.



I swallow the lump in my throat, full of hatred;

and smile, my teeth so faintly grinding

and think of my treasure.

Oh, how I love him and how I

hate myself

because the pain that I swallow and hold

on the end of my fingers,

it falls on his hair and his fragile skin,

it sets on his long dark lashes when his eyes grow big

and he wonders why

Mummy is sad again

Mummy is angry again.

Why she never cries…..

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I don’t know if I chose you, or I was destined yours;

I do know I wasn’t made out of your rib like Eve of Adam’s; I couldn’t build myself in you as sin in a temptation. I wasn’t light within your temple, I had no altar in your flesh.

Perhaps you pulled me from a dream that wept unnoticed on your pillow, and I slipped gently to your lips so you could build me from a whisper; or carve me out of darkness as an eternal faith.

Your love, I don’t know what it was. But mine – a flood of flowers; which crowded in my flesh to bloom my bones into a spring. And from the wounds of my ripped wings flew insects, discarding my body like a sinful angel.

In my mortal eyes you were god’s offspring. But in your scornful love was raging fire, born from the candles of a self, which took us both to hell… and heaven.

And everytime you held me I felt the wings between us, the rib I wasn’t made of piercing through my skin. My eyelids draped over my bare flesh, when we made love like beasts to hide our strangeness.

And silent like two stones, one burried in the other, we drank eternity with hollow mouths; but failed to find each other in the secrets of stolen moments of the past.

But now I know, though it’s too late, that the eternity you gave me was damnation. I ripped my angel wings each time your love dressed me in dreams of insects and bloomed me into spring.

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There’s a beach near St Ives where we sat one clear night in September. You won’t remember it, but you were there, leaning on a rock too close to the waves and the water filled your trainers and I laughed, alone..

There’s a bar in Naples near the gulf, where we sat drinking Merlot one rainy afternoon. You won’t remember it, but you were there, the wine left crimson marks on the corners of your lips and I laughed, alone..

There’s a lake in Annecy where we hired a boat and wandered. You won’t remember it, but you were there, it started to rain and the water dripped from your curls and I laughed, alone..

I’m still chosing the place to let go of your ghost..

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Because I can’t hold on to the illusion. When I almost believe, when I can almost touch your face, you vanish and leave me like a held breath. And never do I feel colder, lonelier; never do I long for darkness more than when I wish I could stop fooling myself..

I grow and I laugh at myself, and then shrink back into this girl, too small for my shoes. You grab my hands and spin me around and I let my head fall back, and laugh like a maniac, drunk with your madness. I keep waiting for the day you’ll let go, when I spin so fast, and I fall and hit my skull against a stone and split it apart. Perhaps you’ll leave it then, my twisted mind. Perhaps you’ll set me free.

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