#mawkishmagpie

Everybody Loves You by SOAK, lyrically it reminds me of David Byrne’s Everyone’s in Love with You.

I like that my blue pen has a red lid and that the red lid covers the blue bottom so whenever I go to use it I forget that it’s a blue pen not a red.

Sometimes I don’t even use it because I think it is a red pen but when I do use it, I am glad because it always writes so well.

And I never put the lid on and I know I never will.

So please don’t run out or get robbed

I always tried to avoid men with allergies


I always tried to be the strongest
 women I couldn’t ever be
 So men would find me refreshing
 yet all they did was take advantage of me

It was my error 
to try

To try and pretend I wasn’t upset when he told me I was wrong:
 “Vincent O’Brien is a sad song about suicide”
 I should not be singing it and being happy while doing so

To try and be the girl 
he told me he wanted 
because he’d already met his soul mate and divorced her.

To hold myself back from telling him he was cruel, 
the cruellest she’d met because he pretended he wasn’t aware of it.

The kid he had, the kid he was

Sacrificing her own happiness for the moment 
constant hints at how he and his ex girlfriend had finished things in a similar way last year. 
He was in to patterns. 
 a bobble of cotton. 
 no zig in the zag.

On his inflatable mattress, in his parents house 
he said he didn’t want a family. New Years Day. She said, trying “me either”. but she did. she wanted to have a family. to exist in a framework of love: one that her own life had been missing.

hungry
 eating packets of digestive biscuits
 plain and suddenly the tapping in the sweet tooth
 the curb in the crave for more it all stops

she wanted children 
and she wanted them to have a father

something she could melt into 
like butter
 when she finished work 
and even when they were sexless 
reading books in bed together
 she wanted to feel love 
and exist in it

happy, content and free.

After all it could never work

Bridges Hearts Ovens A naked flame, flickering.

Vaginas Eyes Chilli fingertips Acid, thrown flesh.

Johnny Cash Disco inferno Bright eyes Witches Steak

Poets burn Sun Marshmallows Forgotten pans

To burn I was burnt I will never burn again!

-I lied

My toast is black In this poem I forgot

Things that forget You, Me and everybody I will never know or get to.

Fortunately I will not be able to forget them.