“Am I still your favourite person?”
I asked, eyes wide,
Arms wrapped behind my back like folded
Can you unfold me and
tug at the frayed edges until we forget they existed,
Kiss me clean.
“Am I still your favourite person?” I ask,
Or just forgotten
I always thought we’d find our way back together, somehow, sometime, someplace. And we did. But we were older and we had changed.
You had made me cold.
You left. You were always good at walking away.
You did not look back this time.
You should have told me that you wanted to fight.
NIC- newly industrialised person
And the word boyfriend sounded foreign to me
As if it should be spoken from another girl’s lips.
When I did say it, it was through a gravel mouth
as though I was cursing your half smile and rough hands
that furrowed brow, how everything was a thought process to you. (Love cannot and should not be analysed, databased or calculated).
And as though I had not heard from you in one hundred years,
I Extricated Myself.
Your ice eyes and my tense body
something falls together
Is not how quickly it will fall apart.
Distance can drown your lungs as every gasp of air is filled with someone else’s laugh
That water laugh
all light and salt,
It’s always hard when someone is in love with the idea of you
Like One false move
One wrong step
And your porcelain image will shatter in front of them,
Cracks will appear
To reveal your weaknesses and your downfalls and your past mistakes
And you will no longer be this out of reach
You are real and raw and you shit and you cry
And you are so imperfect
So backwards in your flawlessness
It’s the artificial parts of you that they blood lust after
Not the thoughts, emotions and feelings that overwhelm
It scares them that a pretty little thing can feel so much
Of course they run away
As fast as they can
With the hope that cracks do not appear
in the next porcelain beauty.