I wrapped her, in red ribbon. I breathed against her skin, and heard her thoughts crashing against the inside of my skull, like bones clicking when stretched too far. She ached. Though I didn’t know why. Nor could I ask. Not yet. Her eyes changed colour with each mechanical snap of the lens. A flash … More She Bled Red Wine
In the aftermath of the tippled boxes come undone; ribbons untied, and words scraped from corners of a pale skinned mind, unrefined; do I say I am sorry? When I was just a girl, in dresses printed in sunshine and sewn together with trust, I learned that words mean very little. Unless, they cause an … More Boxes Undone
I have always mocked my brothers for their mushy well put together strings of loving almost song like things they say to their wives and girlfriends while in my company. On some occasions I will pretend to need to wind down a window to throw up. They use affectionate names, and when in each others … More How Not to Write a Love Poem
So staid, so demure. So very retired in your advances. The grass grows beneath your feet as you move towards me. So timid. So sedate. So very, very uninviting. I would have licked the edge of my sword long before your hopeful gaze realized I was even gone. Am gone.
Blasé, you are, over the puncture wound you left behind, just above the heart, just off center. Your surprise at my inertia. The delay in emotion. The bending of heat waves. In knee jerk anger. Smug to think that because you were the architect of my mausoleum, that somehow you could offer me your veins … More Refraction
Darling, my darling distraction. Will I regret this infraction? Will you hold my lies above my unrepentant face? Darling, my darling diversion. Do you linger for my perversion? Why do you stay when your love and your name I misplace? Darling, my darling weakling. Be quiet when I am speaking. I need you to leave … More I Can’t be Your Muse.
A Paradox. A self-contradictory and false proposition. Of sorts, a lie, unintended. People parade the idea; of love, and then of independence of the mind. I find, these two can not coexist. I love you, but will you become what I want in a lover? Will you sign the dotted line, and enter into this … More Paradox
I bled, bright red today. I gripped the wound, and the warmth of the blood that pulsed past my fingers and ran across my breasts onto the floor, was a vivid reminder. I never was in control. I was merely caught off guard, and propelled into a motion, not unlike a speeding train. Or falling … More The Art, in Breaking Hearts
I argue often, the fickle meaning of the word ‘love’. Ask me, and I will tell you what it means. Indifference. Loss. Apathetic routine. Unimportant importance. Lip service. Disservice. Relentless fashioning of another’s whole soul to suit the ‘better’ half. Numb hum drum yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Promises motivated by fear. Forced liberation on another’s … More Loose, Noose
Listless, Restless, Benign and numb. Heavy hearted. Detached. Unlatched. Falling. Resisting. Insisting, on enlisting every emotion already in motion, to paint pictures. Join the dots On what I have lost. Or, what I gave up. Say something. Moan. Groan, anything to show me that this isnt permanent.