I Am

I am but a vessel
Of decrepit dreams
Whole and broken
But that doesn't deter me

Burn me

Blind me
I do not bleed easily 

For I have walked
Alone in the dark;
All I fear is my own mind.

My skin has been plunged

In flames that were ignited

By my own failure.

I have stood at the precipice
My foot shakily hovering over the edge
Now my mind is an anchor
No longer do I sway.

Yet still, I remember the fear

Billowing through my veins.

Fear at the power I held
In my two hands as I
Dangled my feet
Off that cliff edge;
Tentatively dipped them
Into the dark.

Gazing down

At that charcoal black escape

Seeking freedom

My fingers briefly loosened their grip

But fear paralysed me.

It's alarming, the

Sense of realisation when

Your world has crumbled apart

In the palms of your hands

For hands have
The power to heal;
The power to destroy.

Perhaps that's why I did not use them In the past.

Hidden under a blanket,

Nestled in the crook of

Daylight's arms,

Neglecting them destroyed dreams.

Dreams; that

Coloured my mind

With soft hues

& lazy blues croons

Of summer afternoons

And sure, the stillness of

Your hands is honourable; is safe.
You will not do wrong
You will not be hurt.

But in their stillness, those hands lay

Quiet as the dead.

You Are

An enigma; sometimes
I feel like I know you inside out.
But then I see you've been miming
The lines you want me to hear

Sometimes, I wonder whether I
Simply fill the space she left
Behind in your bed;
In your head.

You don't know me at all.

But that doesn't sadden me;
What really makes me despondently
Bite my lip is that you
Don't even want to know me.

You don't even want to ask,
Don't want to figure me out.

Perhaps it's good;
I can conceal
What you don't reveal
There's no risk of being misunderstood

But how is not knowing the truth
Not misunderstanding?

How can you ever truly, fully, purely
Understand someone, heart and soul
When you don't know what makes them tick;
What sends their heart into overdrive?

What throws them crashing down as if
A ten tonne weight has been hurled
Upon their chest;

What lifts them up; makes their lips warmly
Curl skyward, as happiness washes

Over them in gentle waves

When did being blind equate to being happy?

When did obscuring the memories
That once sent you sobbing softly
Into your pillow
And the nights you never
Wanted to wake up from
Make you feel safe in his arms?

Are you happy? You probably are.

I ask the right questions, and
You answer because you trust me.
Your soul is beautiful; kindness
Emanates from every inch
Like the soft glow of a candle
In a dark room

I suppose all I am to you is the room.

An empty space to hold you; to shelter you.

Because you don't see my light
I'm just a kooky short girl
Who gives you an occasional massage
And believes in you, and kisses your cheek
Softly when she wants to tell you
She adores you without words.

The girl who can half-play piano
Short tempered and foul mouthed
Who survives on a diet of mug cakes
And pasta bake.

You don't know the girl I was, or that
She still haunts me now.
You don't understand me on
The mornings when I don't
Want to hold your hand
Or when I don't have the energy
To force a smile.
You don't get it when I don't want
To be your 'Poor Baby'
Or have my cheeks squished
Or be your childish plaything.

You don't understand why I can't always pretend to be happy.

Understand that I'm not happy.

Deep down inside, I'm a shell of a person. Hollow.
I've broken myself so many times
That each time I try to fill myself with
Something good; something golden
It escapes through the cracks like
Grains of sand

You deserve better than this

But you also deserve better than her

I hope that your time with me is useful

I hope that I don't put out your light

I hope you find someone truly worthy of your kisses

I hope you find someone knowledgeable of your culture

I hope I don't become another regret.

Dec 2014