Pull

I dreamt you were lying next to me, caught in my arms against the world.
Eyelids flickering into memories, subterranean thoughts of you and I.
We waivered towards destruction, with every word from our mouths.
Yet I was always tongue tied and twisted, rubbing the past into the floor.
I would write our story in the sand, hoping the waves you made would not crash and blur it all.
Watching the sun dim and be pulled down by tomorrow.
Catching our breaths in the here and now.
But what comes after the sunset?
What remains after the salty taste of the sea on your skin fades?
The shells of you and I in your pocket, the ones forged over time and crushed in a heartbeat.
The summer turns and the mercury rises and seeps into my hands.
Burying it in the sand, as we spit in the eye of everything that is against us.
Sucking on caramels as we kick sand at one another, avoiding eyes and hearts.
I woke up thinking we were safe, yet you escape me. Forever caught in the strands of summer.
Leaving me with only sand in my shoes.

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Colour in the rain

Why do you spin the room, and force me to the floor?
The bottle says ‘drink me’, though I know it contains your ignorance.
The ground shifts, and the quake in my bones does not disturb my reasoning.
You split me in two and try to repair me, gluing together bits of sawdust and distaste.
All I do is cough up feathers.
As the shaking subsides, I fall back into breathing; simple systems that keep me going.
I’ve found no you replacement cruxes, yet I feel the air on my skin.
Do not mistake this bow of respect for subservience.
Please do not take my kindness for weakness.
I may have built you up to a pedestal height, but I can rise to the top of the sky also.
Eat me, and I have a number of times.
Felt you in my mouth along with the cold harsh realisation of commitment.
The one armed bandit of being loved.
I am not alone because I am lonely, my solitude is there because it’s lonely at the top.
Push me down and drag my soul through the dirt if it makes a better picture to view.
Erase the parts you don’t like, and place me into the boxes your OCD tendencies have immaculately arranged.
Like a mist I shall seep out, the strong miasma that engulfs then soaked up by the rain.
Watch me come down in colours that stain your soul.

Remittance of the love that is lost to the ways of the world (part I)

You motioned for me to quietly enter the room. I could feel the tenseness of the air. The walls seemed to contract and wrap themselves around me. You sat there with no expression on your face. That face, the one I had touched so many times. Kissed it, smelt it, longed to be near enough I could count your eyelashes. Now it glared back at me like an empty pool. The lights began to flicker, stuttering out their watts in a rhythm I can only attune to the beat of your heart. The gun didn’t bother me, it was aimed at my head throughout but I knew this was all leading to something. The beginning of the end.

(I noted that it was aimed here and not my heart…maybe you’d finally figured out, there wasn’t one in this body of mine)

This part of the Jeykll and Hyde, this side of crazy. You asked me to sit down, the first time you’d spoken. Little daggers aimed at my ears, rushing with the blood and fresh thoughts to my head. You were so cordial, yet each word spat at me like kids on a council estate. I choose to stand, my one last defiance in our petty war. You told me there was something for me on the table, I looked down to see a wooden box. You told me to open it. This was not what I expected. Your look gave nothing away, nothing expect hurt burning from your eyes, and anger that could not by concealed. The box lay in a pool of blood, thick and viscous, floating on this horrific sea…..