With You

With you,

I didn’t write for a whole year

Because I was so happy,

La la la

In pretty dresses,

My Sunday best,

Your arms warm

wrapped around me like a

fuzzy cocoon,

I didn’t want to wake up.

 

I wrap myself in blankets now,

I traded dresses for trousers,

I don’t wear much makeup anymore;

I am starting to think it was all for you.

Maybe it was,

Perhaps it’s all just a transaction in the end.

 

Perhaps  now I’ll make my own cocoon

And

I will stop waking up at 3am,  wondering how a pillow replaced your chest.

Fight for Us

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[ountry]

 

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

parts

How quickly

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

maNIC

DNA

That water laugh

all light and salt,

Dead-ly.

End-ed.

I can still feel your arms even now

Maybe I wouldn’t be so messed up in the head

If we’d never met,

Knowing that night I should have left,

But I clung to your bed

With my head on your chest.

I can still feel your arms,

Even now.

-Tina Rose