Gift

My hands are cold, and my skin is old. A lifeless blue, and sore to touch. I cry, soft, in a private space, plush with reds and ribbon and lace; A sanctuary for me, and a faceless freedom. I lay my heart in the bowl, and watch the blood bleed and coat the engraved words: … More Gift

You Thought…

You thought you would break me, amend me, and be needed by me. You thought I would beg. Mumble up offerings of adoration with shaking hands. I thought I would die, on your floor. I could not breathe in anymore. I thought you would show mercy, or some semblance of kindness. Or at least remorse. … More You Thought…

What Colour?

Paint me a picture of my blistering shame. What colours would you choose to show the pain? Would your hand be steady and heavy and meticulously planned, or would you just tip and pour and not even use your hands? Paint me a picture of the torture in anguish I feel. What colours would you … More What Colour?

12 Hours

I find it hard to write, when that is all I want to do. There is a riot of words going on in my skull, which now feels trapped and confined and plagued by the inability to articulate how I am feeling. I feel as though my spine may snap at the neck, with the … More 12 Hours

Connect

I have always been deeply moved by this video. I connect with the pain in the movement, and the words in the song..   so thought I would share.