Posted in poetry, Uncategorized

Last Night

I saw my mother
her arms stretched wide
as she welcomes me.
I sink into her skin
and breathe in her scent
feel her heart beating
close to my face;
I’m a child again.
My innocent eyes
search her pale face
but she’s in shadow
hidden by the darkness
that took her.

I’ve missed you.

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Posted in poetry, Uncategorized

A Funny Story

We’d argue until the early hours of the morning.

I’d sit in the 6am rain with a cigarette and a glass of water, spitting blood onto your patio.

The neighbours must have become concerned

for the crying girl in her Calvin Klein’s.

I told my mum I’d fallen.

I told my friend it was ‘a funny story’.

 

 

Your forearm would pin my neck against the wall

whilst your tear-stained lips told me

how much you loved me, you’d die without me.

Your forearm would envelope my chest

in a furtive attempt at hiding my assets from prying eyes.

Your lips would brush my ear

People are looking, you would say

People are looking, put them away.

Why did I stay?

 

 

Four years later you asked to see me and you cried the entire time.

Thick, salted tears that stained my clothes.

You’d been a block of ice in my life for so long

but that day I breathed my summer sunshine on you

and you melted.

 

 

rewrite of my poem Naïve.

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized

Naïve

I thought I was in love with you. You haunted my life for five years with your words, your eyes, your hands and your tears. I was too young and too naïve to leave, too scared of loneliness, too empathetic to abandon you in your ball of depression. I covered myself up, I ignored my makeup, my friends didn’t know me anymore. I didn’t know myself.

Why did I stay?

I thought I was in love with you. You manipulated my mind, warped my beliefs and made me think I was the antagonist, I was the devil in our cat-and-mouse relationship. We’d argue until the early hours of the morning. I’d sit in the 6am rain with a cigarette and a glass of water, spitting blood onto your patio. The neighbours must have become quite concerned for the crying girl in her Calvin Klein’s.
I told my mum I’d fallen.
I told my friend it was a funny story.

Your forearm would pin my neck against the wall whilst your tear stained lips told me
how much you loved me.

You’d die without me.

Why did I stay?

Posted in poetry, writing

if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror

Inspired by  To This Day by Shane Koyczan. – ‘and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror.’

 

She stares at her reflection most mornings
her lips set in a stony grimace
a deep line between her eyebrows.

She thinks her skin is rough and papery
sagging and decrepit.

I think she’s beautiful.

She pulls at the skin around her eyes
picturing herself young and youthful
twenty-four and full of life.

I think she grows more beautiful
with every passing year.

She frowns at her greying hair
parts it to one side and the other
pushes it back, pulls down a fringe.
Everything she tries, she complains
bitterly.

I imagine stroking it out of her eyes
cupping her face
telling her just how beautiful she is
how beautiful she was
how beautiful she always will be.

But she never listens.