every girl I’ve kissed

seeking shelter from the night
when I was just a little girl
they put a spell on me
on every song I’ve sung
every girl I’ve kissed


as far away as the moon

weekends were worst
when I couldn’t help missing her
when I was seventeen
she was as far away as the moon

search for a heart dream

awkward adolescent conflict
I thought I would always love her
but this night circus turned into a beautiful disaster,
it was crazy―dancing with dragons—like a fable
if I only knew what the moral was
shaken like a fallen angel, collapsed
where I couldn’t follow, into the silence
on the wind―for what it could have been
I still need a place to go
In my search for a heart dream

truth—I knew she lied

truth—I knew she lied
an answer that was not an answer
no matter how many times we lay together
when it’s not love but a need
to feel another’s skin against my own
to tremble when I realised she lied
despite how close her lips were to mine
I told her I won’t leave—until I have her answer
she rolled over in bed—toward the open window
I wonder if she thinks about flying away like I do
answer me, I say—answer me, answer me, answer me

her name was summer

summer fills every part of me
moonlight silver in my eyes
shapes shimmer, twirling
music floats – my feet dance
like spirits of the air
sweeping grace in her arms
swaying to the song
fingers in my hair
brushing against my neck
smooth and hot
brushing against my lips
crushed against her body
until sunrise – pink light
slips over the horizon
and deep inside me

My faery queen

My faery queen
doesn’t think of me in that way;

stuck in her imaginative web
and burning with desire,

obsessed with her flirting
to all the boys;

she is completely unaware I exist,
the girl with tears rolling, graceful hands;

passionate is pretty, on a cloudy high,
try to live with the pain;

hands in my pockets,
hoodie pulled low

she looks but doesn’t see
the face I see in the mirror;

I don’t know who I am anymore
but when she looks at me I can’t breathe

This I understand

eyes open ― dressing in silence,
stray hair falling across my face;
black jeans ― tight ― crop top;
these are the clothes I wear now,
but what kind of person am I?

part of me is still angry,
remembering the heat in my cheeks,
the warning in my head ― her words,
I ―am a dangerous thing,
this I understand.

Eyes of love

Eyes of love wept
At the glance not intended
For the bedroom door
Had she dared
Touch her heart’s
Need for intimacy
Something dark

We had all kinds of things


We had all kinds of things
But the narrative didn’t go that way
It was meant to
It was meant to be full
Of dances of colour
Of midnight strolls
Of smiles and sighs
And dresses hiked to our waists
For love is precious
But the apple still tasted bitter,
The thorns were still sharp
And now it’s too dark
To read fairytales anymore

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑