poetry!

shes beautiful

organic, in a way

ritualistically fascinating

ridiculing me

you're hers

im here

money on the table

no phone to call you

opening my eyes

to leave her here

house

everything is shaking

reeling from the crash

everything is shaking

where is she?

everything is shaking

nothing feels real

throwing up

turning around

opening my eyes

picking up the phone

i miss you

could you forgive me for something i didn't do

kiss her

unloveable, unliveable

problematic confinement

house

opening her eyes

useless epiphany

seeking surreal

im laying here

eyes brimming with tears

the bright light from my phone illuminating

my face has tears

i am not crying

nice to each other by olivia dean spins in my head

a vinyl on a half ghosted record player

gathering dust yet how can something gather dust if its not all in this mortal realm

missing her

crying at ten o'clock at night

in the dark

waterbed

hard mattress

soft skin

she didn't deserve it

missing her

the sweat on my body is giving me chills

its been there since 08:31

could also be to do with the anxiety and the pre-prepared willingness of the fall

my bones feel smooth against the rubbing of my skin and my joints grind against their sockets like mortar and pestle

my knees ache but i feel no pain

just the shivers through my spine as i breathe

i know if i get up my legs will reignite with the thought of freedom

and the pain that follows through

Golding once said ‘man produces evil as a bee produces honey’

the more and more i think about it i disagree with it

and agree with it

[its twisted society we live in]

and think that it must be about capitalism because people are never inherently bad

its beaten into them at a young age

scared into them

changing them

tortured

‘tortured poets department is the new rage’

anti-capitalism protests shut down by government

the world's greatest country is decaying

human ‘kind’

living in this economy

in this current political climate

if you were here i wouldn't be sitting in this classroom doing nothing

i would be intently listening to you

learning physics, chemistry, biology

watching the fish in the tank on top of the cabinet

it has been 96 days since you left and i havent written a poem about you yet

apart from this

but it's not the first time i’ve sat in this seat, in this position, writing poems

another 94 days before theres a chance ill see you again

i could tell you about my grades

ask if your kids like my painting

talk about my 16th birthday

but it'll have to wait

it feels like the breakfast club but we’re not a brain, an athlete, a basketcase, a princess or a criminal

we’re a ‘gym bro’ who’s actually ‘mature’

a ‘pretty girl’ who ‘doesn't like her friends’

a ‘confused’ person who doesn’t ‘fit in’

a poet

and a teacher who’s replaced the one we all loved

and we’re all talking about football

and no one is shouting slurs

or gossiping

or crying

or shouting

we’re all we’ve got in this current moment in time and that’s enough

science revision left behind

the simple longing for human connection

yearning for the unknown

raw biting flesh

a strange curiosity of the senses

‘flip your skin inside out, i want to examine you’

he’s sat on the desk and you’ve got your head in your hands

and who’s who anyway?

reading a basic poem, writing this one

growth

reflection

growth

reflection

we are all normal but we are all different

and that is something to cherish in this world

i see their skin

i don’t want a social divide

or a song about electromagnetism

i want genuine human connection

the kind that makes you look at someone and actually see them differently

because it’s rooted in your soul

and im sat here

13pm Tuesday, March 3

sat with them in english class

and you’re not here because

but i’m sat in your chair and it fucking hurts

whatever, whatever, it always hurts

but i think its almost summer and we used to sit at the deck laughing and trying to fish with our bare hands

and we were us

and i know this sounds like any other one of my poems but it feels different

because we actually used to be happy

and it feels like you’ve taken an ice cream scoop to my heart and dug out the memories to take for yourself and i don’t even know what you’ve done with them

you could sit here like me

and have my exam seat memorised

and think about when we burnt croissants

or when we watched doctor who together for the first time

or when you cut and dyed my hair while we sang to the cure

i could never pick a-level english because i would read every word and think of you

poetry will be the death of me

you will be the death of me

english classes are a purgatory i’ve never felt

and i can’t wait to finally leave you because i will be free yet you will always inevitably taint me with your hatred love

i sort of wish you were here because i’m actually having a good conversation with your friends and although they were my soulmates two years ago they are nothing compared to you

my brother shouted at me and turned the light off as i turned the water on

i am not scared of the dark

i am also a liar

i stand there and gather my surroundings

screaming beach-life-in-death

i look in the mirror

with its frosted glass, distorted image

and wonder if the green light of my ipad really looks like that

time passes

i still scream along to the song

i stare at the ceiling as i let the water wash over me

and i wish ashley was here

she would understand the feeling of wanting to drown when you can't even stand the feeling of water flowing over your face

i let the water run over my forehead, down my nose and off my chin

it stings

i had a dream last night that you killed yourself

and it hurt because in a way you already had

sacrificing yourself - your true self

for those who speak to you but don't talk to you

who look at you but don’t see you

I saw you

the image blurring and wavering

trying to recollect your face, your hair, your clothes

all changed

for the better? who knows

but i know that I saw you today

and i mourned you like i mourned you last night

he’s waiting at the bus stop for me after school

and i see him

i see his overworn yellow hoodie

i see his black coat draped over his arm

i see his long hair blowing in the wind

his school bag on one shoulder

and he is smiling at me

and i dont think i will ever forget his smile

it projects itself into me and fuels my heart with a kind of love i can’t describe

funny that

a romantic poet unable to describe love

im in his room

and i see him

he’s ethereal

he’s remarkable

he’s really fucking gorgeous

i love him with so much

i love him like he loves his cat

and i love his cat like he loves me

he’s angelic

shirtless

boxers showing from his baggy jogging bottoms

he stretches

up and out

reaching the very stars he came from

touching them with his fingertips

caressing them

his long hair curled around his shoulders

framing his face

his body

perfectly

and he's mine

he's all mine

that soft, fleeting sort of love

fleeting in the perfect moments but the sort that lasts forever

he’s the sun behind the clouds

the clouds that look like hills

and everything in between

he feels different

something that can't be identified

but he's mine

this beautiful specimen

all mine

and he will be forever

in sickness and in health

in life and death

in death and soul

not death do us part

because our souls are intertwined

and i believe they will be tangled together forever

pulling and tugging at nerves until a reaction sparks a memory

and our hearts are warm

for just a second

and we sleep

holding hands

in death and in soul

for i love

and will always love

the pictures you deleted

haunting you

creeping around in your photo library

kissing him

kissing him again

and again

and it meant nothing

because of course it didn't

why would it

ever

mean

anything

sleepovers

camping

the pier by the lake

the talking

the laughing

the kept secrets

turned into dark stares

lowered voices

an ache that thrums in your heart and eats it from the inside out

the same ache that never went away

not after months

and it wont after years

to love someone is to lose them within the depths and folds of your skin

the waves of your blood flowing through your heart

i loved him like i loved his mothers cooking

deep and warm and too much to savour in such short time

he was never meant to be mine and the earth proved it once and then once over

id always loved him

like the people they talk about in those films

those people

the sickness in your stomach

his brown hair

now black

your long hair

now short

times change

and people change for the worse

i dont think i will ever have him

and if i do it shall never be the same as before

because he is a ghost of me

it throbs and stabs

just like the wound in my knee

the scrape i got from the tree at the park

the park where the squirrels are scared of me and the slide gives you friction burn

did you know that i once saw kids go down there on their bikes?

time goes on yet i never stop wondering how people are now

i kept the cards you gave me

all but one which i ripped up on the day you changed

i miss you

i dont think ill ever stop missing you

and you haunt this narrative but you still exist

in mind, in truth, in body

father forgive me for i have lived and dared to dream

i have sunk my teeth into the warm flesh of the apple and relished in its sweet taste

i have become something i was taught to hate

i wrestled and tangled and fought and kissed

and still it was not enough

my body yearns for something it has never felt

something that is beyond the wishes of you

the father, the son, and the holy spirit frown down upon me

the great heavenly being they create shunning with its mighty power

but it cannot take the desire away

the words are carved into the ache of my heart

and i bleed them

tonight

at the church

i shall consume the apple once more

i bleed blood

i bleed pure, thick blood laced with

memories

not family

not 'the people who came before'

my blood is full of the things i have lived

how i have made my blood my own

traces of my past flowing through my body

giving me life

almost death

the thought of those who were and those who came before

those who are now and those who are but a memory

i bleed power

i bleed pain

i bleed the love i so deeply feel

the love of my old friends

the love of those who have past

the love of my boyfriend

of whom i will always hold dear not just in my blood but in my heart and soul combined

and the love of my best friends

my blood runs fast and cold through the body that is so warm for them

will always be warm for them

even in my memories

the traces

of blood, like body

will always remain

we grace this earth with our every move, our every word spoken and hand held

i am not alone in this world

i look in the mirror

i see the boy staring at me

bloody knuckles, scraped knees and a mouth full of retaliation

a body full of defence

steel sharp, rock resistance

hiding the wool soft of his soul

his matter

he matters

the bruising the bite and the brawn

fighting to be alive and to stay alive

fighting against his own

each to their own it is

broken teeth, broken home, broken heart

it kills the body

the mind

the being

decaying

rotting

potential

let me fix him

let me talk some sense into him

let me save him

its his only hope

he's spitting out blood and other things that he doesn't want

the words hang empty in the air

'i hate you' he protests

'you’re scared' i say

his eyes

steel sharp

now wool soft

realises there is hope in safety

this isn't the end of the world as you know it

it's just the beginning of someone's life

at 7

at 12

at 16

my body aches and yearns for what couldve been

hey its too late. im getting poetic

two many cups of, too many

silence to fill a room

the liquid

it sloshes

around my head

thoughts here

somewhere else

following someone

anyone

will someone love me?

uno. we'll play uno.

where are you? where did you go?

when will you come back?

searching. finding old toys, old books, old memories

dust

dust covers everything