Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

anxiety is –
the moment in a horror movie
when the girl looks behind her
and doesn’t see the tree root
her foot twists
and she falls
and in that moment
she knows she is going to die

anxiety is –
knowing you are going to die
it is the fall that will kill you
because you were too busy looking back
to keep your footing.

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

Your lips taste like cinnamon

And I’d never tasted cinnamon before you

Now it’s inescapably a part of you

You are the girl with cinnamon lips

A soft spice of taste

After drinking your coffee

It reminds me on the days when you’re not around

I taste it

And oh –

But of course

There you are.

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

I run with the wolves because what else would I become –
My skin is marked and my hackles raised
I bare my teeth to the setting sun
My feet are bloodied and my knees are grazed

I run with the wolves because I speak to the dead
In ancient tongues and blood rites past
In rubies, corals and all things red
In knowledge that I am, finally, the very last

I run with the wolves because the night seduced me
I run with meat caught in my teeth and sharpened fangs
I run with intent and promise of pure and simple deed
I run with aching stomach and hunger pangs

I run with the wolves because once I was a lamb
Devoured whole and an empty grave
I run because the waters have long since broken the dam
And because no, I still haven’t learnt how to behave

I run because when you’re running you can’t look back for fear of falling
I run because what chases me is more terrifying than any four legged beast
I run because I cannot face the morning
And darling, finally, I run because I need to be released.

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

do you think
maybe, just maybe
there’s a place for us
nothing big, we don’t need
much space
just enough to curl
up into a ball
like little children playing
hide and seek
we peek out and hope
that the world isn’t
watching
and we can be alone
do you think there’s maybe,
just maybe
a place for us
where we can forget everything that
isn’t us
and breathe each other in
like lapsing sighs
and you’ll turn to me
and i’ll see it then
because you’ll see it in me too
this great big something
made small but no less precious
by its observance
we treat it with wonder
because we are
in ourselves
in our small space
wondrous

Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

during duvet days
and nights when teeth gnash against one another
like broken splinters in your mouth
tasting blood and
legs restlessly walking their way across the bed
when blankets wrap around too tight
thrown off in the heat of the night
then reclaimed when the cold becomes something more personal
more intimate and hurtful
when you feel more alone than you’ve ever felt
and breathing seems so foreign and like a chore rather than a prize
i want you to know
i am here
i am here
and i will fight every demon
and i will sit by your side
your hand in mine
and i will sing with a broken voice
which dips too low and cracks too high
and i will sing to you until the sun rises
until your eyelids begin to droop
and i will be your dream catcher
your protector
i will fight it all for you
i want you to know that
i will fight the worst of it
because i may be small and i may be weak
but you make me strong and
maybe
just maybe
you give me something worth fighting for