I Taught Myself How To Love.

You asked me why I never write you poems (well I do you just don't see them)

But my point is it's hard to translate all that is you into a series of metaphors.

There's a lot I could say about you.

There's a lot that I can't.

I wish I could say you were the sun and the rain,

The ground I walk on, the air I breathe, 

But Blakian imagery doesn't seem to do you justice.

If I had to compare you to some grandeur symbol it wouldn't 

be an element as passive as rain. Rain's impact pales in comparison.

A thunderstorm perhaps.

A heat wave.

You have a pulse that throbs like the lashings of a tsunami.

You have a pulse that beats like the apocalypse is near.

You have a pulse that tick-tick-ticks like a time bomb. 

And It is both fearful and phenomenal. 

I cant say with certainty that I love you like the moon and the stars 

but i can say this;

I love you like the promise of destruction.

I love you (And maybe this says more 

about me than it does about you) 

But I love you because 

you'll be the death of me.

The way your 

heart pumps blood 

just fucking kills me. 

dirty business

Toothache tongue.

And as I stare at your expression of concern I catch a glimpse of a sneer that lurks beneath that feigned furrowed brow because let's face it kid you get a kick out of seeing me suffer when I stutter and choke choke on my words - you tilt your head to the side and say Aww and you feel great cause your voice is comin' out smooth like a milkshake while my jagged words are like broken glass like a broken record have I said the same thing twice or is this just de ja vu HEY wait - where do you think you're going? Oh I get it you're walking away again boy it must feel great to be you. And 'Hey that's okay, I don't need you' I'll say, but the funny thing is I'd be lying oh look now I'm crying. I didn't even notice but you oh you never miss a chance to kick me when I'm down - but you do it in such a way that I feel thankful for the attention I mean at least you're not kicking someone else. And yeah I saw that ring on your finger that you bought with my money well i guess you were on a roll - buyin shit with the money you stole - but I guess it's kinda like I bought you a gift but if only you'd caught my drift because doll I woulda bought it for ya if only you'd asked I mean it's no small task - following you around the way you run so fast it was if you were trying to lose me but I wish you'd just chose me just make your mind up and pick because babe I'm real quick and don't think you can outrun me no don't even try and no I'm not gonna cry - just because you're pretending to care well I'm pretending too - pretending those sweet words are true - but it all became clear when I looked at your face and saw that sneer and I realised how you love it when I'm sad well is that so bad maybe I'll just forgive you ha ha wouldn't be the first time and probably not the last but oh man am I getting fast - so you better quit running lets just stop and reassess - well hey you look great in that dress what a find! Where'd you get it? Oh it's mine - I think it's cute when you steal all my clothes take them all! as long as I'm the only girl whose clothes you're taking now don't bother waiting cause I'm fast and I'll catch up to you one day one day you wont wanna run you'll wanna stay and I'll finally get my words out and I'll say stay, stay. Stay with me.

~photo by Georgia~

I’m your toothache tongue,

an x-ray shadow of decay.

I’m the words you ch-choke out

when you have nothing left to say.

Pacific Coast Highway

We heal slowly. That’s a short and simple statement that has taken me many years to learn - because nothing’s more frustrating than wanting to be normal again and you can’t you can’t right now. But it’s not the days we achieve our greatest goals that mean we’re alive but the days we get out of bed even if it’s late afternoon, the days we do nothing but maybe read a few pages, the days I don’t talk to anyone until you come home, the days we get up and breathe then plunge under water, the days we make plans and then don’t follow through – these days are quiet and yet they're screaming ‘We’re still here. We’re still alive.’ And the point is we never left, we’ve lived through every damn day of our lives and haven’t given up yet - and shit that’s an achievement in itself. So if all you do today is read this then that’s okay, that’s okay.  Because there are many more days to come, our whole lives, when we’ll do more then just make toast and maybe have a shower, so heal today - tomorrow - until you see fit, and that’s okay.

Stand Still.

Seb and I have been reflecting on this year as if it’s already over, talking about the highlights and lowlights and trying to remember everything that has happened, but it all seems a bit of a blur to look back on. Last year was such a catastrophe of events, everything was constantly shifting and changing direction – this year, my life at home seems to have been at a stand still. Perhaps I’m eternally dissatisfied with my surroundings because I grow bored so easily. I think there was something intoxicatingly beautiful about not being in control of my life in the past, of having everything taken out of my hands by external events and the people around me, that roller coaster feeling of being along for a ride and the unexpected elements that kept it stimulating and entrancing. This year, leading such a structured life of studying, less socialising, so much time spent around the house, has made me resent it. In Anais Nin’s diary, she talks of Henry Miller being protected by his wife June – he worships her, and defends her in conversation, and would never raise an arm to hit her – for she is flighty and passionate and unstable, and he must make himself small for her to love him. And she does love him, but as a mother loves a child, a love devoid of passion, for she can’t feel passion for a man so flexible to her every whim. I’m not sure if I sympathise more with Henry or with June. But it’s a strange and complex idea, the notion of power and control – and once one has it, there is no struggle to exercise it; there is no ambition to conquer or to succeed. Everything stands still.