you walked into a baryou walked into a bar and you forgot to phoneyou walked into a bar and you forgot to phoneso I phoned youI phoned you and askedhow you walked into a bar and forgot to phoneand you started explaininghow you were there in the barwith the men talking business and you explained business to mebut mansplaining takes time so I heard herI heard her.
I have startedthinking abouttime againit does not help mebut it helps meunderstandbecause time – time can measurehow hearts workin silence, space, distancetime can measure lovein that measurementI can understandloss
I didn't realise I loved youuntil I diduntil you stopped me mid-sentenceand said, "that's love, baby"and I have a word for this oceanthat has engulfed memuting the screams that haven't stoppedsince I can rememberwhere I can fully breathe and I am floating weightless and free, a balloonyour fingers hold the string gentlyI don't want to break free.
when you look at meI look at me through your eyesI see that you see the scarsand cover me in something that changes mefrom more than just open woundin your eyes I am more complete than I have been since I was a child
this is a story for our children—how I surrenderedwith a simple 'you win' and walked so far in, your heart screaming 'run' followed, only to find a love that makes you crydepth and tendernessan intimacy unimaginednow you won't apologisefor dreams of childrenwe won't have
how are you ableto see the writingcarved into my skinread this languageunderstand this bloodhow it ebbs and flowshold this breathmeasure its weightand know its depthyou have notknown enoughof this life but yetwhen I seeyour soft handsI want them
you brought out the dictionarymade her swear on every synonym for over, left, brokenframing your questions in all possible wayscovering all bases in uncoveringyour guile nowhere near sufficientfor her deceitmy aunt looking for proposals for her daughter, adjusted her shawl and with a youthful laugh once saidan old man marrying a young girlis like buying a book for other people to read
what you call serendipity is a weight inside my chestyou give me too little of you how did you learn to be so careful with yourself?watching me hurl myself into usstanding there calmly, know this -I will turn away after I break.
for the first time it doesn't scare you didn't you see my hands shake as I lit up yet another cigarette -I've been scared for weeksmy face against your chest helps me breatheyou are home, I am lostno bearings, no ground, no sky
why does falling in love feel like leaving,like being left, like abandonment?like standing in a room watching for ghostswaiting for shadows of you to fall across me again?why does falling in love feel so much like sinkingwhen it should make me want to fly?why is your falling so easy for you to containwhen I want to fold myself into the floor and cry?
my mother taught me to leave when no one’s lookingwhen there is no danger of being stopped or getting caughtshe left past midnightthree children in towattempting an escapealong dark beaches, rail tracksheart pounding but I sayleave in the lightbefore being leftleave when it is least expected – that’s when no one’s looking