Tag Archives: this is not a love poem

Heart Hoarder

I tuck my words for him behind my uvula, where even you can’t reach them.
I am an over boiling pot of love poems,
lust poems.
I’ll tell you about every boy and girl I’ve wanted to plunge my fingertips into,
to see if I could dig out a reason to keep going.
But you can’t have this one.
I’ll wrap him so tightly in metaphors you won’t be able to tell where he starts,
and I begin.
My lips are sealed around his memory and you
can’t have him.
My flat mate knocked on my door last night,
told me to keep it down,
his voice leaks out from underneath my hands when I hold them on my body.
It whispers:
Good girl.
Yeah.
Come here you.
So now I sleep with my hands wrapped into my lovers hair and cross my fingers,
hope to die,
this isn’t a love story.
This is the story of the small hissing thing in me,
which hoards hearts

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K.O

We’re all sinking but you’re swallowing water like this is the only thing you can win.
I’m not saying you’re not fighting,
we all turned up to the arena and you got there late,
handing over money to the bookie saying:
Put it all on the other guy.
Then smiled easy.
You say you’re not here just to leave early.
But the difference between leaving or staying out late, eye fucking death pouring drinks by the bar,
is either way,
I can’t see your eyes most of the time.
Like you’re looking ahead but it’s downwards, like you can’t hear me shouting, like I can’t reach you, I can’t shake you!
Like,
nothing.
Nothing between you and the ocean floor now that you’ve swallowed it all,
you tell me not to worry while climbing in to the ring not wearing gloves.
I stopped seeing nooses in every belt buckle you own but you don’t buckle up when you drive,
and it drove me away.

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Forecast

You tell me I’ll be yours with the same conviction in your voice as someone who says it’s gonna rain.
When I ask how you can be so certain you just smile and say I feel it in my bones,
you say you get the feel for these things after time.
And I guess it’s flattering to be someones ache,
but it’s been weeks and I’m sat here without you and it’s all clear skies as far as the eye can see.

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Mutual destruction

I want you like a gun wants to be cocked and fired,
all high strung, tense, capable of horrible things in the wrong hands.
I want you like the water wants to lick the bricks of the city,
waves after waves of endless destruction no one expects you to endure.
But I can be soft, I can be lapping waves over legs and backs, I can be gentle rain.
Just not for you.
We weren’t made for tuesday afternoons and hands twined together in a way that doesn’t hurt,
arms pinned down, bruises in the shapes of fingers and my voice roaring.
And I want you like fire wants wood,
I’ll run through the underbrush of you and run everything alive out.

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