Moth Met Flame

Shelter.2010

one day, you told me you wished you could be a runner.
I thought it was ironic.we both wanted to run,
it was just that I wanted to run from you, from life.away...far away.
my time with you was a million marathons long,left me depleted.all I had was gone.
a million marathons.I lay down upon my floor unable to stand any longer.my muscles wasted.
everything wasted.
took myself to the river,intending to jump in.but I called you first.to let you save me.
but you never saved me, all those times I let you back in.
you were in my ears,in my head.clutching my heart and squeezing hard...
I loved you destroying me.more and more.each time you struck me.I loved you more.
but do you see it now.do you see how you never loved me at all ?
I can still smell your warmth mixed with gaultier on your neck.it lasted all day on your skin.
it made me feel safe in your precarious arms.kept me believing.
every word, every harshness.I still shelter a little drop of love for you from reality.
tell me somehow.that it's true.that my hope for once is not empty.
I was nothing to you.
then maybe one day I could understand,
and stop believing everything worthwhile,love and such things.
need to hurt to be real.




History...


Of what is forgotten


I had forgotten it.I had been looking down at those strange marks in the last few days and wondering where had they come from.unlike the scratches I get at work, little dots of white upon the creamy skin of my inner forearm.
but when I woke this morning and looked again, I remembered. something clicked.I did it to myself.


I felt nothing,only a kind of satisfaction at having remembered – me, who forgets nothing. so,they are staying.they will not go away.I have to absorb and accept them.


I stabbed a biro into my arm nearly four years ago.I felt nothing.I was raging.it floods back…he was being abusive.he wouldn’t stop.we were in the office at work.


I was at my end.I didn’t care.so I did it.desperately.thinking it would somehow make him…see.


he watched,and he continued.


and I wanted to die.all I wanted was to die.


but this morning.all I felt was satisfaction.


and perhaps..perhaps a little sorrow.
 
 
The Earth Moves, So Must I
 
I sit in the cemetary down the road.




I wasn't sure where I was going until I got near and remembered it was here.I needed the peace.I wasn't at all sure where I would go instead, I just wanted everything to stop. for the world to stop spinning. for my heart to stop beating so heavily in my chest. to stop the shaking.


even a little breaking.is still breaking.and I musn't break.


my eyes begin to blur, and not from tears..I don't even know the cause. I don't think it's something medically recognised. I will not cry.


I walked past your hairdressers, thinking how funny it would be if you were getting your head shaved just as I am walking past. just as I'm nearing the end of camden. holding my breath.because it wouldn't really be very funny at all.


I wasn't so surprised, to see you standing there against the railing. should I be happy to think you tried to stop me seeing you? but that even with your back turned I knew it was you. even with those exceptionally nasty jeans you were wearing,the man bag was one of the clinchers.for a split second as I walked past 
I thought,already knowing..."could it be" and as I turned back I felt my heart explode. because funny as it may seem,..I had written only the day before about seeing you.somehow I knew in my gut.the vibrations of the earth.something inexplicable..something I am too cynical to believe in. I walked around the corner as the trembling started.my eyes met a woman at the bus stop.


I don't want this anymore. I don't want to be his victim.I turned back.
knowing exactly what I wanted to say, but worried my voice wouldn't be there when my mouth opened.


but you were gone.


it was as if you had never really been there. I looked every which way.
how long had I waited before I turned back?


so now here I am watching leaves fall.and old drunken men piss into bins..it is a cemetary in camden after all.


an hour passes.and I leave.


the words I need will not come. no one else can claim responsiblity for my feelings but myself.


a year and a half is a long time to stay in the same moment.
 




The Language She Speaks.
she is the sea,swollen with death
empty of longing
waiting on the tides.


she seeks imaginary things
counting them on her fingers,
she cannot tell what is real
and what is not


she slept through the rains
immersed so completely as she was
in her own destruction
in the desolation that follows
freedom,after captivity.


in the dreams she could not imagine
ever waking.
she was lost


she didn't seem to feel the contact
when his fist hit her flesh.
when her head hit a wall
when she met with her own idiocy
not for the first.
not for the last.


she saw that flash in his eye
satisfaction.


she felt that knot in her belly turn
to emptiness,


to resignation .








A Run Down Of My Broken Mind


I take criticism brutally, as an arrow through my heart. as though everything wrong with me that others can see, makes them love me less..instead of just meaning,
I'm human.
every argument.disrupts the butterflies in my stomach...swirling them up,
I wait to be left.because.clearly..you can see right through me.I make things difficult and ugly.
I have not hidden myself well enough to keep you.
I look at you.
imagining what you see. feel ridiculous. as tears trail down my face. tears of shame, of guilt, of all the things
I can't ever seem to find the words to explain well enough.it all sounds like excuses as it trips out off from my tongue.
a mess of the past.
I wish it away.screw my eyes shut,hoping for it all to disappear.
when will it subside...it's been a year.in this dirty grief.
I wish I had never known him. because his shadow falls across my path.
I need to turn the sun around..
I need to leave him behind.






Dandelion, I’m Blown Away   31 March 2008




I am enveloped,caught in a net.
I try to breathe,but cannot.
I splutter,shake.attempting to gain some focus,a small amount of composure


but I’m stung,it washes over me in violent waves,knocking me down,winded
I want to run,run and never stop.
till everything becomes a blur
till everything is gone.


I gasp for air that my lungs do not accept.
my hands need to be gripped by a steadiness from any external force
even a cup in my hand provides a little stability,
a solidity of form that I am without


I flush with the effort at concealment
I cannot catch my self.every breathe I let out deflates me
and yet,I feel so full.its as though I will combust.


I want to sink into the ground,for it to melt around me.
it will pass,it will pass


it always does








Some Honesty.  25 August 2007

       I cannot breathe. I cannot speak. I have walked and walked, though for what distance or purpose,
I do not know. life is something unrecognisable, I feel I have lost something. though what is gone I should not miss. and I have been stupid, oh so stupid. I feel pain I can only blame myself for, and am so low that I see no light.


       there is a void, left behind by your abuse of me. and so I come back for more. I know the promises will never amount to anything. I am aware of what you will do, what you will say. even as we stand pretending all is well. I am pretending. I go over in my head the reasons for why I shouldn't be here.
standing with you. listening to jokes, or stories about work.
as you speak, and as I look at you. all I see is how you were,or how you could be. and I see myself. crumpled on the ground. if I smile, if I laugh.. it is at myself. at my foolish hope. at my lack of self respect. how ridiculous it is that I could easily come back to you. I think of the people who will pick up the pieces when I fall apart again. they do not deserve it.


I don't know how long it will take me to re-build what is torn apart. there again is the panic, rising within me that signals that I'm alone in the world again. it petrifies me. you are beautiful, and you know that you are. I am not. and in my insecurity maybe I will stumble from one abusive relationship to another. looking for what I know I will never find. because I have only ever been the one who was found. but this is all to be, only if I let it.


one day, you will be a husband, you will be a father. though not to me. not to our children. what could I tell them Shaan ? do we have the kind of memories for making families with ? children ask questions, and I want to be honest with mine if I have them. endlessly I begged you to get help. you are more concerned with people not knowing what you have done to me. you say they hate you because of me. I would be ashamed had I done what you have done. but I would accept responsibility. what you don't want to understand is that I do not tell a biased tale. a one sided sob story. these people may know you, they also know me. there is not another person I know who would describe me with the names you have given me in rage, I know no one else who would hit me with the brutality you have. or think that I would do the things that you accused me of. these people know that I hit you too. and they know the reasons why. I was wrong to hit you. but do not think I am not honest about it. I take full responsibilty for it all. you never listened.
 I hit you, because I wanted you to understand how much pain you were inflicting upon me. I was more frustrated than I thought possible. you wouldn't listen, or wouldn't remember. you passed judgement. made dirty what was not. you called me disgusting things. nothing was ever right. all that you went out with me for. turned into all that you used against me.


I should have just walked away. but I wanted you to understand. I wanted it to be true, that you did love me. that we were going to be together. that you were just scared, or sick.


you used all that I was weak with to make me more vulnerable. I became the accused. the cheat, the psycho. the slut. your cruelty was unbelieveable. but more unbelieveable was the fact I took it all.
over and over.
but it comes to a point..where even in this haze, I see something changing.  see myself drop to a point I have not known for quite some time. and had never wished to know again. I can snap out of it-or rather ignore it... but everytime I feel it, it is worse. so this is where it stops.
because I will not go back there. I will not cut myself, make myself sick, take more punches, listen to those words. 
you will not take my life.




...Gone, Is What I Am.  june 2007


 I am empty, and I am lost


exhausted from too many nights lying awake
thinking how it came to this.
how it went so wrong.
the strain shows on my face, though I thought
I had learnt to hide it.
it glares at me


I close my eyes,
but do not fall.
many nights I do not even know
whether I have slept.
my waking dream,
merging everything into one.


opening my eyes into the black
I wonder if I'm here at all
if I am not,
I do not know where I have gone.
but of this I am sure
gone, is what I am.




Perfect


like imprints left on skin.
held too long, too hard
this pain will fade in time


staring into space,any progress I make
sullied, as I'm lost to possibility


you hit me just once


but still, I reach up to my jaw
as though the bruise should still be there


I close my eyes and hear the names you called me
hear them rolling off my tongue at the memory


under my breath they repeat


and I must question
why the hell am I still here


my mind goes cloudy with all that you've done
and I'm all too aware
you are not sorry


you feel no guilt


and you think,


what we have is perfect.


I'm lost and destroyed
in between sanity and somewhere else when I think of all this
and I think it all the time


and yet


to you this


is perfect




To Move You. October 2006


you shift in you seat, but not from uneasiness.


you're never uneasy,
I hate that you're never shaken
maybe that's why I try so hard to move you,
coerce you into some,
some display of emotion,it un-nerves me
how cold you seem
how cold you are.
who needs to be forced to wipe away tears
when they fall ?
I want to rationalise, discern some reason why
you ended up this way
why you seem to delight more in the falling out of love


than the falling in


and the way you can just stand watching
blankly,
as I tumble before your eyes








The Morning After 30 Sep 2006

I drag myself out of bed, knowing my head will only feel worse if I stay here,
looking over to your side,moves me faster
gets me dizzy
though you're not there
and no longer should you be.
like always it was fine to start
but it seems, I'm always watching,
waiting
for the inevitable next part...




28 Sep 2006

I think I saw the shadow of my life
passing over me
watching as I throw it all away



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