Poems

it’s your milk bottle thighs
  those translucent reflections of the blue within your eyes
both limbs, littered with dark chocolate marks
  marks that disappear when the light has turned to dark
it’s the shape of your knees
  those round dented pebbles that float across my sea
of milk bottle skin that’s speckled with those dark chocolate
  marks that remind me of you

milk bottle thighs

my voice breaks whilst my eyes shake
   and out comes this water that’s not
the out come that i thought about
   as I’m searching in the sand for you
my lungs gasp as the noises start
   i partake in a scream that’s loud
it’s part fake but it’s still so loud
   as the clouds stop and they search for you
it’s wet now, whilst my eyes seize
   with tears so heavy and cold
i do nothing but heave my mind away
   and prize them open to search for you
the cotton soft of skin to touch
   how long i kept our palms together

empty lungs

we each collect a piece of the other
   until all our pieces are shared or stolen
we are jigsaws of ourselves built with pieces of people
   are we the same as we were or am i you
all i know is i am yours

jigsaws

i become, pensive in december
   depending on the weather
i get pensive in december
in the winter with my
   eyes wide
deep breath, big stride
   the small hours of daylight
contradicting my awake time
sleepless nights hold heavy eyes,
   they just stay wide
like a deer, like my dear in the headlights
   barrelling through our night time
waiting for the sunrise
ready to start again

pensive

love, our last moral outpost
   stood stoic, awash with a blazing fury
these days when nothing means more to me than
   you and him, and us together
nothing means more than love
our last moral outpost
   high up in the winds of change
set fire, set a fire and watch it all burn
   witness what grows from the ashes
nothing means more than love

love

i am changed by you,
   a vast, unwavering, cataclysmic shift of perception
so minor or so major i can no longer tell
   i think i am strong but then i cry
at the thought of you, your hands
   so small yet full of so much potential
your eyes, wide, wandering and full
   so small yet full of such understanding
you had arrived, not ready but ready
   we will teach you
we promise

promises