The words aren't always available to me.

They sweep in with the seasons and soon are gone again,

leaving me wondering if it was me writing them at all.

​

/

​

Tell me something I don't know,

Like how true love can melt the snow

That's fallen round this frozen heart of mine

 

Tell me that you'll never leave 

Or that the storm struck, fallen trees

Will grow again when the sun decides to shine.

 

Tell me lies but tell them sweet,

And whisper them close to my cheek,

That blushes when you say the things you do.

 

Tell me lies like it still counts,

Like this can all still be worked out,

And I'll lie and say I only heard the truth.

​

/

​

A heavy sun split a silver shadow path in the ripples of the river. 

It was a coy finger teasing around a bedroom door I'd thought I’d closed. 

Its ghost followed my gaze to a stain on the bed sheets, 

but my eyes were liars and they told me I saw you when I switched off my light to the world.

​

He was to me as cracks were to the tiles on the bathroom floor. 

Broken so devastatingly into pieces that I could not be repaired; 

only replaced by something new and glittering, 

but resembling the shape I had left behind. 

​

She filled the space, 

abandoned on his birthday, 

and she wore the shattering pressure of the weight of his love.

​

In moments of quiet, 

he screamed in my thoughts.

Sitting in gridlock at the passenger side, I hit my head so hard I obliterated the window 

and my soul took flight into the milky way.

​

/

​

The walls of the house where we live,

Are thin as leaves in the forest down the hill,

They creak and groan in harmony with the floorboards;

With the weight of the lives they hold.

On Sunday mornings the sun rises

And I do too

And Cupid plays his dawn chorus

​

/

​

I touch my face to make sure I’m

Still there

​

Smoke a cigarette

​

Drink a whiskey

​

Take myself home

But I can’t find peace anywhere.

​

In the room with you

I just want to run

It’s myself that scares me

​

In the room with you

I just want to run

It’s my own stupid self that scares me.

​

I will keep swimming until my skin disintegrates

And I crumble like ground up glass on the ocean floor

Shattering with colour when the sun shines through me 

Shattering into smaller and smaller pieces, 

more and more and more.

 

/

 

When I finally did close my eyes and thought only of breathing,

pushing all other thoughts away and back to only breath,

I started to see my terrifying insides as a folding darkness

that I'd only ever seen before whilst dancing with death.

​

/

​

My body has become large and hard,

a fortress built with dried tears and spilt milk.

A protective shield for her and for me,

but we are locked in it together even when we need to escape.

​

I want to be soft and light again,

to run like the man I saw,

floating through the air,

floating like I do when i dream.

When I used to dream.

When I had time to dream.

​

/

​

And bit by aching bit,

we slide back into our bodies from before.

Before the tide, before the storm came thundering in.

Before the hot sleeplessness

and cold restlessness.

Before the warm, sweet everythingness that is you.

​​​

                                                                          

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