i have spent 90% of my life growing out a mullet and the other 10% talking about it
People talk about pain, like it's tangible, like you can grab hold of it. Surely then it would be manageable. I often wondered what life without pain would be, life without loss, heartache and hurt...
I like the bus ride, it gives me time to think; to sit with my thoughts and think. Hard. I repeat your words in my mind, listening to those songs that break my heart and I rationalise.
Love someone that makes you feel uncomfortable, because when you find comfort, you will be soft and fed. That kind of love, is a warm blanket in the bridge of winter and spring.
New Year's Eve, spent with new friends, in a new bar, on the edge of town. Slowing down, moving on, newer friends, coming undone at the smallest things.
I am yours. You will never know this, you will never see this, you will never understand this, but for all you will never know - I am yours.
My heart is something that breaks apart at the sheer utterance of your name, and heaven forbid there is no chance to hide my face from the shame. There's a churning in my stomach, no ailment can...
Mother, you did me right, you carried me nine months in womb, sacred tomb of your soul. Bore pain in birth like no man would suffer for me; you loved me more for that, than any man would ever dare.
I have grown, I have fallen for a man, and seeds he's sown, deep in my mind, I pay no mind to. Every minute of everyday, I trace the places he touched, and reminisce.
absence makes the heart grow fonder, is that what this is - growing pains. my breath laborious, my skin weak.
we're in a whole heap of trouble girl, this isn't what I had planned. Rest your head on my chest, your hand in mine - we'll bide time and weather the storm.
and so it goes, hot with fever, wet with fate... You throw an open wing around me, tell me there's 'something' about me, ask me why there's sadness in my eyes.
You gave me words when there were none, I guess I should be thankful, days spent drier than summer in the desert, now flooding with fire. (Not for the lack of your desire, that drenched my thighs).
Your stories left upon my desk, like cherries on an untouched cake, I read as much as I could take, blood stained sheets, torn from the bed, where we once lay.
You're feeling sick you say it's no less funnier than the games they play tugging on the heart strings of a fool. You thought you'd changed, but girl, you're to blame this time around the board.
You shake with memory, your stomach churns. You drink from time to time - are drunk few and far between. You have a handle and hold it tight - two months away from two years clean.
I am the depth of a mirror - one quarter inch, or less.
I will not pacify you, to say I know how you feel. I will not cheapen your suffering, to say I understand. If it comforts you to know you are not alone, then know.
Profanities used as ordinary words, you argue it takes their stigma away. Add them to your everyday vocabulary, it's an expression - we're expressive.
It's a capital offence these days to tell the truth and not believe. I lay my secrets out on the table and hide my feelings underneath.
Every girl has had that moment, they never thought they'd make it back in one piece. Bubbling right under the surface in waves of hatred, waves of grief.
I wake up each night and feel foolish Clutching my chest, I sob. You think all those times had prepared you - Nights like these you realise you were wrong.
Do not dampen me with spared feelings and white lies; meaningless words, and gentle coercion.
A shot is a shot, it doesn't matter from who's gun it came. I can't breathe when I think about it, I can't breathe. A leaded weight ties itself to my lungs and I just can't breathe.
A rough hand on my hips, chest and stomach against my back - breathing I lose my breath to; your heart beat just a little out of sync.
I like learning, I am an avid learner. If there is something to know I am there with bells on; blank pages ready to be filled.
You are a capital letter and a full stop. My mind is drawn to you, you claim me with few words and a silence I never forget. I cannot love a man with blue eyes I jest.
You back-peddle. There is always that moment where you stop. Even if just for a second, you stand beside yourself and try to figure out if it's too late to go back.
This one is for the childless mother with the child bearing hips that carry babies from another a sigh on her lips.
You get what you expect, why does this disappoint you. You convinced yourself it was a band-aid situation and it will only hurt for a little while.
Little piece of you All of my parents have died, some of them still walk around like nothing has happened, like they are still alive but I have mourned for them already.
She wears her heart on her sleeve, thinks she's really brave, says she's open to trying new things, she wants you to believe she is different now.
I see you sitting there, curled up in that ball are you ok on your own. would you like me to call someone for you.
**reading old journal entries it's funny to see where I was ten years ago, I thought I'd share a couple of really old pieces** so just close your eyes and count to ten everything will be ok in the...
she is just make up and hair they say, let's put her on film. she is just make up and hair they say, let's put her on still.
Sadness, often felt, rarely spoken - like a friend whose name you do not say when you speak because they know you are talking to them, and everyone else knows who you are talking about.
You are memorable, because you were different. Past tense. I am forgettable because I am the same. Present. ...hardly a gift but current nonetheless. You were one I wanted to believe.
There is a kindness wrapped in your words heartbreak too unoften heard and the tightness inside my chest leaves me paralysed.
Their house is a shrine, a memory of your greatest hits in photograph and video and then flesh and bone. Once a small boy, now fully grown.
She would have ebony eyes, raven ringlets, and skin a cinnamon cream. The taste of winter on her tongue and the warmth of summer in between. Carefree and independent with a tight grip on my hips.
I write your story without name because that is how I was - nameless, unnamed, kicking and screaming - tearing breath from the air around me.
It's soft and slow, touches more places than most, Drenches you to the bone. Summer rain soaks my soul.
Careless summer days, partying 'til dawn. The lawn was freshly cut and we ran cartwheels in the sun. Barefoot on the Tarmac, running reds through the dead of night.
People will always leave, they will always be forgotten and I am certain I will always be unhappy.
I stopped needing people that didn't need me - not wanting, an addict never stops wanting; but they stop needing. Semantics; I never thought my life would simmer down to a play on words.
This beating in my chest is to punish you. Solid, like cold silver. Your hands push my hair aside, I am a mystery to you.
and I smile because even if you saw beneath you would not understand a decade of grief and grieving still..
Every morning I sweep and Hoover a full head stuck in the drum. Yet unnerving as seems the mirror still gleams with more than most.
I wrote a poem for your wedding, and read it out loud - strapped in a corseted dress. my breath faltered and shook from the tightness on my lungs, revelling in your happiness.
when i was younger i had no sense of value a pound went such a long way and five, even further and now that i'm older the lines are still blurred hearts go a long way and bodies, even further.
She makes her way from sofa to bed, furrowed brow.
With open hands, palms up. She is honest. A parlor trick, a fine art. He takes them from her and turns them over. Chipped varnish, grazed and bruised.
In anger you clench your fist - not driven by violence but in desperation of trying to hold on to the last thread of a clear mind.
Everything is soft around the edges but my hands are sharp, move too fast and knock everything over. I cannot bend I do not curve I cannot lighten my intentions.
Air that costs too much, You pan from eye to eye trying to find the truth. We all rush on her to take our hand, she buckles beneath us like a lame horse under a fat child.
Actions cannot be undone, words cannot be unsaid. There is an ineloquence to her silence, it is loud and it is blunt.
I started to bleed the summer she left us. I still remember the day, in her bathroom - the one we were all afraid of. The one that took lives; and my childhood. That house changed everyone.
I take half of the cake now, when before it would be a third. I am not the little one any more, and I have spent One third of my life grieving for this… Eight out of 27; One of three..
Seven thirty three, I locked my fingers with yours pushed your hair to one side and kissed your head - Flowing raven locks, I always envied, still now.
There is no greater feeling than despair. It accompanies every emotion and eats you from the inside out. It's overwhelming, the loss of control, the inability to pull this back from the brink.
He doesn't notice you anymore. He looks right through you. This is one of those moments, you run everything you want to say through in your head and decide to keep quiet.
Seven years, seven months, eleven days still feel like yesterday. Everyday still feels like it was yesterday.
You cannot tell me I do not understand, you can only ask and trust I will be truthful. You close your eyes to me and turn your blinkers on.
She sold herself a pound at a time - we're talking flesh here. It was funny back when she still laughed, now its just funny how things turned out.
Mother you cling to me like a stubborn child, with your fingers sticky and your hands muddy – you paw at me, leaving traces where I cannot reach.
and I will shoot you down on the flood plains of my mind until you succumb to the waves. My finger quivers on the trigger of a gun that you have made.
The tables turn faster than you could predict. You are telling a story of how things will be, and he is beating you to the punch line with his fists. He is teaching you a lesson.
“there is no shame in crying in an empty room, the walls will keep in what you cannot” I am empty as this room now.
An angry little china doll, turned to silk from his touch. Naked is not enough anymore, at times you would think it was too much, but today, now, naked is not enough.