Isolation

This poem is not the best, but today I found out the person this poem is inspired by died on Christmas Day. He will be greatly missed and I hope he is no longer suffering and he is at peace. I love you, Wolfie.


 

Isolation

If I never noticed,
the scars that I saw, the ones
that crisscrossed all over your arm,
that you tried to hide with a faded blue hoodie.
Would you have told me about the darkness?
The darkness of the branches overhead that blocks out,
even the slither of the moonlight as we walk
through the town late at night, heading back to yours
Cutting us from the world, your breathing quickens, vision
blurring. To the point where you can no longer see me.
You’re secretive these days, you don’t even dare tell
that you spent the whole night cutting deep into skin.
Brushed off as if you are a burden, whose issues
will prick, like the bushes on the ground. No chance.
Not when you are the other side of me. We need each other.
I don’t mind what holds you back. Not the three little pills you
take three times a day. But you ignore them, fallen from your
hand, left on the ground, small pebbles. You know what is right
for you a diagnosis does not tell the whole story. It doesn’t match how you
are when you see me, picking my whole body up in a bear hug.
Your thick hair entangling in mine, I can feel your heartbeat through clothing.
Blue eyes looking into mine, a cheeky smile spread across your face.
I’ve missed you. Ready for the next adventure, walking side by side
picking me up and carrying me so don’t get mud on my boots.
Day turns into night and we are lost.
I know it is dark and you can’t see me, listen out for me, I’m there.
Thing are different now. Aren’t they? I am so far away, the distance
has pulled us apart.
Unable to trust me. I don’t mind that you blamed it all on me.
I’ll let you have your moment. Just please let me have my say.
Don’t shut the world out. We can find the path again, just trust me.
We can find the way home, the moon is still out, that small brightness.
Please remember saying a word won’t work, I want to make sure you’re okay.
I’m sorry, still going to be here, even when you don’t want me too.
A promise was made, when we hugged on your bed after you
told me it all and the silence fell, you chewed on your piercing.
I am not leaving you behind.

 

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Kiss

 

That she can’t change for love/And she explains how long she’s waited for/ She wanted more*

I’m sitting on my bed playing a song that is stuck on repeat. I sing it when walking around our city. I sing it when I wait for you and wonder would you like it.

All I can think about is you, and how things have changed since that November night, when you kissed me, and we kept doing it, every chance we got.

Walking to the library I pass the graveyard with the pyramid and I think about the time you pinned me against the black iron railings and my arms were wrapped around you,

and those girls that leaned out of the taxi and cheered at us, while car horns beeped. You quickly turned sheepish and I told you, -Keep kissing me like that and I will want to fuck you!

Our whole saga started just because you kissed my cheek, because I put dark purple lipstick on you, as I always ask -Please can you let me dress you in drag?

You always say no but you let me do it anyway. You left my cheek stained, I wiped it off -If you are going to kiss me, do it properly.

You clutched my face with your hands, doing what I know you wanted to do months ago when you texted me saying -Is it good or bad I wanted to snog your face off all night?!

The lights dimmed and I am sat on your knee, this time I make the first move, my eyes close from instinct and my fingers feel like static electricity, your hand reached up to my neck.

When we leave the bar, I am wearing your scarf, swinging the end around, You take the ends and pull me towards you, it tightens around my throat, my perfume lingers the next day.

You look at me, you want to kiss me, my back against a wall, but you unravel the scarf and wrap it around your neck. I walk away with someone else whose kisses didn’t match yours.

 

*Gerard Way. Hesitant Alien, Drugstore Perfume. L.A.: Warner Bros. Records, 2014. CD.

Widow’s Nest

In a London penthouse, gazing out of the window at the skyline,

a glass of red in her hand, is her, the recent widow.

She tilts her head, slightly swirling the glass, pouting.

 

Her wedding bands already shifted to her right hand,

her recently departed husband only been in the ground twelve hours.

This has become a routine for her.

 

Husband number three, a young wealthy heir, found dead,

in a hotel room. His widow reported to be inconsolable,

why they had only been married four months.

 

Taken a handful of pill, the police reported his widow,

claimed to the press she was unaware of his mental state,

or how he got the pills, he was always so happy.

 

Husband number two, a different story.

He was an older man, twice her age in fact,

but still so young, was unexpected when he died.

 

A heart attack, the coroner ruled.

The detective on the case, was still unconvinced,

it didn’t seem right when he told the widow, she didn’t even react.

 

Husband number one, was a big story,

he was her first love, they had been together

since they were 18, tragically killed at 24.

 

She had gone out with her friends, he was sat at home,

relaxing alone, drinking a few beers. He was murdered,

a burglary gone wrong, nothing of value stolen.

 

The Widow’s phone chirps. Vibrating on the coffee table.

A dating profile notification, six new matches.

She strolls over and picks it up, starts scrolling through.

 

Doctor, CEO, Lawyer…An actor. She purses her lips.

She starts to type. She puts the phone back into position.

She walks to a cabinet, removes her rings and places with the others.

Just Hello

 

Did you even think of me when you typed that as a title?

Your only consideration of me can only be passed off as small talk,

   Hope you are okay and doing great at uni.

If you really cared you wouldn’t have sent me an email at 8:57 AM. You can think about me but forget it instantly. Like I do with you.

Your one-sided conversation turns back to what you want and how

 I miss our chats

Give up! You don’t miss that, you miss your control. I’m sick of seeing you pop up on my phone, facebook, skype, email etc. You will always want more. An email, a call, facetime, a picture, live masturbation, sex. I know how you work. We’ve done this time and time again.

 

Why don’t you have the gall to say what you really want or that you don’t really love your girlfriend.  Because how can you when behind her back you keep wanting me?

I don’t have a girlfriend

Don’t lie to me, I’m not stupid. I know, I’ve always known.

I’ve let you go and I feel like someone who was struggling underwater, who was falling from the blue to the black. But my instinct kicks in and I swim to the sun to come back up for air.

But your return keeps trying to push me back under.

We should talk Lauren.

Lauren?

Lauren??

Why are you ignoring me????

I can still see the distorted light. When I can feel myself giving up. I have someone who will jump in and pull me back up and take me back on the sand. When I shake from fear, wraps their warm body around me and just tell me they are there,

-It’s okay, I’ve got you.

but in your eyes, you’ve done nothing wrong. In that case take this in, how every time we parted ways after you manipulated me for sex. I curled up on trains, buses, my bed. With wet eyes and red welts on my arms from my own hand, nails dug in waiting for the sting.

You want it really!

Just one last time.

You know you enjoy it, we’re good together.

Come on Kitten, for me.

You can trust me. I am the only one who 100% believes in you.

Needing that pain to be physical became a thing with me. How I ended up taking a craft knife and carved lines into my hips -blood peeking through, like small jewels on a string. Where your hands went when you fucked me.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Nothing now, I have better control over my emotions. But I still have your disgusted face lingering in my head when I tell people, what I am thinking and I apologise for being human.

-You don’t have to say sorry for getting emotional!! Ever!

Don’t come back.  Paddling in the shallows is enough. I can run out, walk away, with someone who cares.

Tension of Rope

Tension of Rope was created as a collage poem from three different unknown sources. It was a university class exercise.

Your arms, as well as the wrists,   bound up savagely

bend and twist in as many ways as you can

Gulp and pant       Stop and start again

 

That tightening is tension   against my chest

Your breathing should be effortless

strokes the skin like a brush       Use a mirror

 

The odd one out   no tension  for its vague uncertainty

Study your own a good deal of it is under the surface

tightening tension is obtained

 

The tapestry   the wrists    your arms  

comfortably supported   undue pressure on the thighs

The future is higher than the present

 

4am

The first time I snuck out,
I was 20 years old.

You encouraged me,
and I walked to meet you.

You showed you cared,
your own inhaler, passed to me.

We walked through the night,
alone with each other.

We sat in graveyards,
cuddled on the steps of a church.

One hand held a lit cigarette,
the other wrapped around me.

We moved to country lanes,
to muddy pathways, trees overhead.

At 4 am you spun me facing you,
Our lips touched.

It was unexpected but touching.
You’re still impulsive, but there for me.

You made me promise to stay in touch,
To not let another 4 months go by.

When the sun began to rise,
We went our separate ways.

Left to think about what we did.
The advice you gave.

That if I do what makes me happy,
Everything will fall into place.

 

two minute fix

I need a cig– The most common phrase you say

The fumble in your pockets, desperation growing.

That little smirk when you find your addiction.

Does it really matter that you want to blacken your lungs?

Not really, I don’t care I can count on it.

The burning of tobacco takes me back to a little girl, watching my dad.

But I only think of you, every time that smell creeps up on me. 

It’s a love hate relationship, I hate it but I know it brings you peace

It is probably what you are doing now, the cycle that repeats throughout your day.

Rip slide pluck smooth flick lick click inhale

You got your brief fix mate, but you’ll go again in ten.

Rip slide pluck smooth flick lick click inhale