dear jacque; 28/09/2013

dear jacque,

i visited your mother today, walking down deptford high street with the wind and the rain. new cross smelt like it was on fire, and i remembered the way you drew your fears in burnt orange crayons.

it’s almost october and the air has turned blue with cold and the leaves are losing their golden edges as they fall to sludge. i met you in autumn on the swings in a park in south east london, you were waiting for your life to end before it had even started.

it’s been over a year since you left, and i’m still surprised.

i’m sorry that i can’t write any more, that i can’t sleep and i can’t even dream, when that’s all you have left. i’m sorry that you were invaded by the mutation that calls in the night and leaves you dying for breath in the daylight. i’m still so sorry that i could’t take away your pain like the moon calls away the tide. i’m full of so many apologies that my throat is swollen and i’m gasping, gasping for something.

i gave up telling stories to sick children when you died. i couldn’t take away the pain and the hurt; but most of all, i couldn’t deal with my failures. i could sing you all to sleep, but i couldn’t make sure you always woke up.

je me souviendrai toujours que vous aimez.




What will have changed in the morning? You’ll be older, taller, stronger, but you’ll still be the same, it’ll still hurt that he touched you in places he shouldn’t have. it’ll still hurt that there was that one person you loved, left you when you needed them and you can’t even recall their face. but i’ll still love you he whispers. stating it proudly as if i can’t remember the feel of his fingerprints against my eyelids and back of my knees. 

my hair shall be longer, the date will have changed and the sun, moon and stars will rise and fall. but otherwise, nothing will have changed. nothing. and that is fine, everything is just fine. 


When someone touches you, for good or bad, they take a part of you with them. the fingertips that graze your wrist lovingly and the prying fingers trying to invade you; they all take something away and leave you with a little less and a little more. the boy who shares my bed, takes a lot of my heart and leaves a lot of himself behind and in my arms. the man who shares the earth, took a lot of my strength and courage leaving only the taste of bile behind. 

vulgar impressions of bruises on a thigh and sickness in my bones. wondering what it was that i shouldn’t have worn this time that granted the invitation. was it the wrong time to leave the house, should i never have been on the 11.03 jubilee line train to stratford? should i have gone to liverpool street even though it was more expensive? slowly, people are stealing any sense of strength that i have left. 

the people who skip in and out, the people who stop by to say hi before disappearing for a fortnight, the people who come in once and leave a lifetime of impressions; everybody who comes in, takes something away from you, but today, someone took more than i had wanted to lose. 


incarnate, the lungs of devils
and demons of frozen underworlds
and parallel dimensions bleed,

breathing in fire and choking
on the dust of their greying
bones. gone, the earth moves
from colour to bleak.

look harder, for the stars that
shine at dusk whilst the gods
make their way home. whilst
jupiter hides behind the moon.

hush, darling child of eve and
hercules, the shadows are
coming for you and you must
be bold.