wrap me up, and tuck me
away within your birdcaged

within your branches,
worn away by time and
love that came like


flooding your irises, so
full and your heart so

so empty.

breathe your CO2 into
my fumbling lungs and
leave me here to combust

if that’s how it is,
to live without

4-12-2012; iii

i wanted to be a disaster,

i thought he loved the
nights bruised, stars
unaligned whilst the tears

(whilst the blood fell
against porcelain frames
and hands shook)

i thought that was what
would make him stay until
the sun rose and lights
shone clinically against the
frozen background.

i thought he loved the
tragic failings of a damaged
gift, falling from the skies
and breathing shallow.

the bowl was full of lemons
and apples, whilst we stared
into nowhere, reading poetry
from the back of our hands
with our feet against the sky.

(i wanted to be everything,
that he adored and that
he held closer than warmth)

i wanted to be a disaster.

4-12-2012; ii

london looks beautiful,

when you have your
eyes closed; when you
can see nothing at all.

wander the streets,
come down into the
south east and taste

the freedom, (don’t
mention the crime) breathe
the myth, that ‘we’ are

so much more than you.

feel the allure of shoreditch,
camden or the bight lights
of piccadilly,

just don’t stay too long
or you’ll lose the high

and it’ll become another
grotty city with fucking
and overcrowded cemeteries.

4-12-2012; i

où avez-vous, mon amour?

did you sit with broken ribs, punctuating the silence with the inane, with your life underscored by nirvana and the french classes you took in secondary school left to the wayside. reach into your pocket and feel the small change, feel the scraps of paper full of odd words and strangers phone numbers. are you watching at the window, feeling the clouds drift by because nothing is enough, for you, for him or for us. 

i walked past you once, red baseball hat and piano fingers. i watched you dance to the vision in your arms and i watched you walk down the street, until you were nothing more than a string of notes wandering through another crowded street. i watched you until i was unsure that i had ever seen you. i watched you and now i don’t know why. 

i never slept when i was with you, i never slept when i could be examining you like mess below a cuticle or freckles upon an apples core. bleeding into months and years of sleeping at six awaking two hours later at eight am. i never slept when i was with you and now i am exhausted, sucking from the wind all the oxygen i can muster. is this what it is like to die? is this how it feels when your body puts up no more resistance than the unavoidable pants of exertion. we bleed and bruise, but when will it end?

where are you, my love?