He chose me for my sadness, he told me; the challenge of it, of replacing the dead weight with life, my pallor with English rose. I know a project when I see one, he said, appraising my rib-caged flesh, my hollow eyes. With each button opening, a mans desire. When he was done, I was sure I had counted each ceiling tile twice, compartmentalised each shade of white and grey, the slight mould of green in the left corner, the opal spider’s web on the right, the light flicker. My leaden legs shaking slightly with the weight of him; his breath in my ear. I wanted to slice him, groin to neck, and back again. But I soothed myself, my girly wiles, count to ten, then back again, Just remember to smile.
‘And in the end in wonderland we both went mad.’- T.S
It was that cheshire cat smile that did it
I was half in love, half afraid, I saw you through the looking glass
I would look at you like you were my favourite magic trick, a coin behind my ear, a tale on your tongue, how you held me close and licked your lips
We’re all mad here, you would say, your eyes crazed, a match between your sharpened teeth,
You could set yourself on fire and laugh, I am sure of it
But I was always too scared to tell you,
that I had seen madness,
but only in a boy from Pennsylvania
who didn’t know how to love me.
I am a dream holiday
A winning lottery ticket
A pre-suicidal Marilyn
They say, being with me is like chasing a fantasy
I’m always almost certain the novelty will wear off
What a curse it is, to be the type of woman who comes afterwards
to men who have already seen the world.
When you know he will go back to where he started off all along,
When you leave for vacation you always come home.
Scarlett hair and skin so fair
He wondered how such beauty?
A raven dream
A sex fuelled scream
Such unaltered mutiny
A witchcraft smile
magic for a while
but she was stardust poisoned
Do not love a starlit witch
filled with lust depravity.
Spoken word Poem.
I think if you were a better man you could have loved me better, but maybe we were just the worst thing that could have happened to each other.
I knew our millennial love was over in dust, when we started to talk about us in the past tense, and face away from each other when undressing and in bed, when we both pretended to be asleep, You couldn’t hold eye contact when we made love but yours were no longer the arms I would run to if our house, our life, our world was burning down, my annoying habits were no longer endearing and you hated the sound of my laugh, how irritating you were to me too, the relief when I kept thinking thank fuck we didn’t get married or get that joint bank account or have that baby we talked about when we were young and had less frown lines when life felt light the way only two people who are in love can feel it, I wonder how we got here, if it was me or you, but I hate the way you shout at me, at nothing sometimes, you are not handsome to me anymore, just unkind, stagnant, I don’t think I am as beautiful as when you met me, as when you loved me, I think that it is ok to age I think it is ok to walk away from love I think it is brave to look at someone and say, I no longer love you, need you, want you, I think it is ok to grieve but remembering grief always makes the other person seem better than what they were, like a saint on a pedestal with a light shining on them from above, fuck, I hope you find someone unlike me, I hope she is polar opposite even, and brings the light back into your eyes, the smile back to your lips, I hope you test the waters before you spend the rest of your life with someone else, I hope love find you when you aren’t looking and I hope the next one lasts, I hope the next one lasts.
And you always had to remind me
as though you were not the one
My lungs in your hands. My shaking body,
begging you to stop squeezing.
Go on, tell me again,
tell me how much you love me.
The August heat came with love and chance
A melodic butterfly gasoir dance
And stolen kisses underneath that old tree
The sapling brought from Italy
The one which grew up with me.
Ah, this old, crooked, strange tree
My mother loved to tell this story
how it could live for thousands of years
but would only ever bear fruit once.
What a gift it would be, in this lifetime
How wonderful, if the universe, aligned
In chance, in beauty, in laughter.
And like a bumblebee to lavender
That Summer the fruit came and so did you, to me
Your mouth on my mouth under the Italian tree
Orange fruit, sweet, and we
Two love birds perched underneath.