knife work

cut me
cut me in slices and lay me out like a puzzle for you to put together
cut me and lay me out to dry
and them sew me up like I never died
cut me nice and slow and deep
apply your blade skills, start with the tip and work your way down till you've reached the bottom
and then again
cut me
don't worry about the blood
it can be washed away, it can disappear and it will be like it was never there
cut me gently so my skin don't tear
make sure the knife's been sharpened and the edges aren't rough
I know I'm a softie
but my flesh is quite tough
cut me up
lay me out
take a look at what you've done
what skill you have
cut me and sew me back together so we can play this game again.

I found a boy

Love and I were common enemies.

I found that Love and I were never meant to be.

For hours I'd sit and wonder about what Love meant for me to discover, but always found myself empty handed and my heart more hollow.

Love and I were worlds apart.

I could never hold Love down for long enough to find a meaningful other.

And I was all alone.

But Love came to me one day.

Don't look to far, it came to say

because the one it chose for me was right under my nose you see.

He wandered right into my world with an unsteady smile and a glance and a word.

Love took me right into that gaze,

it left me overwhelmed and amazed.

Underneath that metal armour was a love that was an honour.

Michael arrived with the shiniest star,

one I feared was both near and far.

I waited for this love to come

I longed for this Love.

Love was kind to me once more

It arrived and I opened the door.

364 days later I'm still in awe - the love that Love brought was an Encore!

The final act of salvation from the one I'd lost faith in

The final glimpse of hope I'd partake in

The last chance for irrevocable happiness

The conclusive to my continuous question, When?

The beginning of what I thought would be the end of me.

Love found me hanging by a thread and emancipated me

364 days after kissing Michael for the first time I wrote this after being away from him for just over 4 days. I have never experienced a deeper love. I'm thankful and hopeful and grateful. And I'm in love.

untitled 06:32 Tuesday 10 October 2011

I'm afraid to say what I feel.

I'm afraid to touch you. I'm afraid to make you angry. I'm afraid of looking or sounding stupid. I'm afraid that you'll hate what I'm wearing, or how I look. I cringe right before you tell me what you think of something because I KNOW that there'll be criticism there. I'm afraid that if I tell you what I think sometimes, you'll shoot me down. I'm afraid that you'll think my ideas are stupid. I'm afraid that you think I'm stupid. I'm afraid that you don't see everything you want to see in me.

I think you think I'm weak.

I think that sometimes when I touch you, you'll push me away like you did once in the middle of night. I think that when you're angry you say things to hurt me on purpose because you know I can't take it. I think that you don't think I'm smart. I think that you look for reasons to dislike what I'm wearing. I think that you're too critical of me. I think that you dislike me sometimes.

I wonder why you're with me.

I wonder why you'd stay with me if there's so much about me that you'd rather have erased. I wonder why sometimes you use this patronising tone when you speak to me - like I'm a seven year old child. I wonder if I ask you for too much. I wonder if I'm asking for too little. I wonder whether you'd ever miss me if I was gone. I wonder if you love me as much as I love you. I wonder whether you really love me or whether you love me because I love you. I wonder whether you think about the difference between being IN LOVE and loving someone.

I wish you'd just say you're sorry.

I wish you'd appreciate that I think you're handsome. I wish you'd just say thank you, sometimes. I wish you didn't always have to know something better or smarter than me. I wish that you didn't always HAVE to have the last say in an argument. I wish that you wouldn't be so stubborn - especially when I'm trying my best to compromise. I wish you wouldn't accuse me of misunderstanding you every time I ask you a question. I wish you'd say you love me first. I wish I didn't just hear you say that I'm beautiful once. I wish that I'd believed you when you told me that one time.

I imagine that we'll never be apart.

But my reality is different. I've allowed you to extract small pieces of me that I may never get back. I imagine that a lifetime with you would be tiring and harmful to my heart. I NEVER imagined that it would be hard from the start.

I am here.

My Pain

My pain is only a reflection of what I've been through holding tightly onto my faith in you. There's no other reason why I would remain involved in the highs and lows of a love with you that I have fought viciously to keep. My pain is only a reflection of the battles I have faced deep within my own self, battles that I had no reason to face before I had to endure this pain. My pain is a result of your weakness for truth. Your weakness for commitment. Your weakness for faith in something that was so guaranteed to succeed, even the odds were speechless. My pain silently gnaws at the walls I've built around me heart because the cement is so fresh that it hasn't even dried yet. And yet here you are, speaking of your hurt, your pain, your inability to sleep at night because it keeps you awake. Did it keep you awake and wondering around like an insomniac when she was naked in your bed, wrapped up in your t-shirt, warm and happy and safe? Did it pain you then? MY PAIN trumps your pain! My pain comes from chapters in my story, all mixed up in closure and recovery, healed and wounded again by you. That's my pain. My pain smells, feels, tastes and sounds like the syllables in your name; every vowel and consonant enunciated impeccably so that I will never forget. That's MY PAIN. My pain breathes fire at your pathetic excuses from heartache because my pain has been reused, recycled, reburned and rebattered. My pain has been rebruised and retarded by you. And yet, I should never blame you for my pain? When I made the decision to face the universe both fearless and filled with love. What kind of person would I be if the pain I feel let me blame you? You will never understand that this pain, the pain that I feel soaks my heart in its lava daily, always remembering that taste. That scent. That sound. That touch. My pain only knows you. Only you can cause this kind of pain. And I will never forgive you.

Unbearable amounts of anxiety

difficult to find a surface area that isn't slippery
there's no grip
concrete is always a better option, any other surface is weak when there's water
sometimes I am the water
i wonder whether you've ever felt water
not sipped or bathed but actually felt it
it has no feeling?
thats what you think
i know better because i know how to be the water that loosens your grip
do you think i'd tamper with your survival?
is that why you lie to me?
is that why you pretend to feel things that you don't really feel?
i don't believe you anymore
i should never have trusted you
you will never survive this water
i will drown you

The last time was too late.

It was as though he knew how to fine tune her mind.
He had the right key to every door. He knew what to find in every room, because he'd been in every room a million times.

He knew every corner, every window, every light bulb and crack in the staircase, as though he had designed it.
He knew where to go to make her see him differently each time he came back into her life.

But he lost track of time between visits, his mind became a haunted house of its own. It was as though she had figured out how to penetrate his mind just as easily.

He awoke one morning to thoughts about her like he'd never experienced before. As though she'd come in the night and planted them there like wild seeds, unruly and liberally bound by the creative fashion of the way she used to love him. He missed her sweet soul.

He decided to enter the dark memoirs of her complicated mind one more time, preparing himself for the grand finale of his rights to visitation. He'd planned to visit one last time and never leave.

But when he tried to unlock the door of the mind that had been searching for his answers for years, she'd already changed the locks. And when he opened his eyes and saw himself alone, he knew that her struggle was over and his had just begun.

Life. Life, I tell you is not as easy as it seems.

Many unreachable notions keep me from my fate.
Obstacles with proportions big enough to decide my faith in myself bring me closer to wanting to de-register from life.
What keeps me earthed if not the Earth herself?
What have I done to deserve the gift of living if celebrating the present isn't my vision?
Life.
Life, I tell you is not as easy as it seems.
I've dreamed a hundred of these wishful dreams.
I look forward with compassion and understanding for my craft - but my craft is untalented, inexperienced.
Unsmart.
Scare tactics are used to discourage me, I am my own insulter.
I am a runner from all things difficult, be it love or a natural disaster.
I pride myself on listening intently and creating the picture upon a page with descriptive words and enthusiasm and punctuation that would inflame another's greedy mind with questions and answers alike.
What makes me think I know enough to write?
YoungNovember was an impulsive notion to better my imagination. But the result of my ever growing poetic mind has landed me a repulsion for all things good, pure and lovely. Just because my battered heart feels it is unworthy of such privileges. And why?
Because life has cast it's stones at me and I have been too afraid to stand my ground. I'd rather take cover - hide.
And so many unreachable notions will continue to determine my fate as I lay around watching my life pass me by.
Because to stand up and fight for what I believe is the life I know I want is too much of a risk for me. And I cannot stand to lose more of myself than I already have just because I allowed myself to love.

Life.
Life, I tell you is not as easy as it seems.