Wednesday, February 21, 2024

Creature of habit

You used words I haven't heard before

And my drunken brain couldn't comprehend

What I thought was interest turned out to be

The exact opposite

And yet, sesquipedalian,

You stuck to your bloody ways

And I got lost in the mumbo jumbo

Of flirtation - or whatever the fuck it is you were trying to say


Word of the day: sesquipedalian

given to using long words; (of words) containing many syllables



Friday, February 16, 2024

fire

the saddest part of all this isn't that
i could make a bonfire of all the hurt
you left scattered in my life
but that even as the fire crackles and burns
i would give you another chance
and another and yet another

Saturday, February 3, 2024

Coffee

I half expected you to walk in the door today

Sit two tables away from me

Glance up while placing your order

Only to find me already looking your way

It will take you a moment to recognise me

But I flatter myself

I doubt you will

 

Today, the cafe played our song

Scratch that

The cafe played a song that reminds me of you

It’s been 12 years since the song was released

Eleven since you shared it with me

And not once in those years have I heard it being played anywhere

 

And so I half expected you to walk in the door

Sit two tables away from me

Glance up while placing your order

Only to find me already looking your way

 

Would we smile and leave it at that?

A gentle nod in lieu of hello?

Would you invite me to join you, catching up after all these years

Eleven, to be exact

Just over a third of my life

Sunday, December 3, 2023

Coming undone

You’ve made me come undone

Unspool at your feet

Order replaced by chaos

Veins tangled in my ribcage

An eyeball where a knuckle should be

Is this love, I wonder

One half of my brain where my foot used to be

Is love disarray, insanity, disorder?

Saturday, November 4, 2023

Dry

As I rub lotion into my too-dry skin

The brown turning whitish, grey

I remember those nights together

Your hand on my back

"You have such smooth skin"

Whenever you tell me this, I

Either give you a matter-of-fact

"It's the lotion I use"

Or laugh off the compliment,

and then kiss you

But now, those moments feel like they are

So far in the past

Like decades have passed since

Even though it's only been a few months

A few cursed months that turned

My body into an object of pity,

Indignity, aversion, malfunction

And you,

I realise that I miss you

Or perhaps,

I just miss the life I had

Back then

Sunday, August 20, 2023

promiscuous

It hurt when you called me promiscuous
Not because it was so far from the truth
An accusation unwarranted, especially from you
But because you made me feel dirty
When all I wanted to do was not be lonely

When I pulled your arm around me
That one night, I wanted to feel like
I belonged with someone
And when I woke up, alone in bed
Everything just seemed so empty, so pointless

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

Change

Things move slowly

Like we are underwater

And a minute is no longer

Sixty seconds

Time stops when you

Hold my hand

Resumes when you

Let go

Diagnosis, I'm realising,

Takes time

It's been weeks since

Hope was crushed by

Bad news

Good news told to

Make the scary less

Scary

This changes everything

You said

I didn't think it would

But look at us now

Changed 

Saturday, July 29, 2023

The last time

We talk about firsts
First kiss, first fuck, first date
Treat them as relics
Build museums for them
But what about lasts?
The last time you kissed someone
Touched them, loved them
Remembered them
Without even realising it?

Tuesday, July 18, 2023

'Find someone'

When my mother kept telling me to find someone,
To not be alone in life, I lashed out
Told her to leave me alone
I was so ashamed of my inability to
Make anyone want me
But today, through a keyhole, I got a glimpse of
The vulnerability that comes with a life lived alone
And understood what it has been like for her
And why she has insisted on my finding someone

It reminded me of plastic bags cutting into the skin
Of my fingers gone white from the weight of their contents
Groceries I didn't need to buy, but did to make things easier
For my mother
The heaviness makes my arms ache, my eyes water
But I can carry them because I know that
At the sound of the gate opening, closing
Or the doorbell ringing, my mother would open the door for me
Carry some of the bags inside

But what happens when she is no longer here
For if nature has it's way, she will leave me someday
Who will then open the door for me? Relieve me of those heavy bags?
Who will be here to love me?

Monday, July 17, 2023

Little boxes

You told me you lived out of boxes as a kid
Your parents moved around a lot
I felt almost sorry for you, then
The concept of moving was so foreign to me
I had lived my whole life in one place
The same house, the same town
Not much changing, except a minor renovation here
A death or divorce there
And now, look at you
Living in a little box in my heart
Just another in a pile, like jenga blocks
Marked "do not open"
Taped shut, carboard covered in dust