Hit by a storm
Rendered dysfunctional and unsafe
Left alone to face
Ravages of time and seasons.
The Devote worshipper, undeterred
Tempted by your simplified existence
And believed in you.
There you stood
A testament to faith.
A thorn to the fickle masses
Who refuted your existence
And do not truly comprehend.
Yet, the path to you was brambled and wild,
Separating those who had faith,
From those who renounced.
I will never sit there with you.
Spring stretches out and caresses skeletons,
Limbs and buds tantalised as the bringer of
New beginnings penetrates them.
The pains of the Winter were necessary;
growth stunted, stripped bare and exposing Summer’s dreams.
Yet somehow like Shiva
Spring’s promises have cast beautiful shadows
Over what yet is to come
You didn’t die.
No body left warm
To mourn over.
No respectable time
That I should wait.
And so to fill
Repair the damage.
To soothe the hurt,
Was not wanted,
Take what is given
Give without clauses,
To hold me,
Turn my body,
Move my mind,
On the grave
Of our love.
I love the way I feel when I’m with you.
Seeing myself through your eyes,
Imagining how I look to you.
I love your love.
I love being your mystery,
Being what keeps you up at night,
I love breathing your air,
Sucking your blood,
Eating your dreams.
I love being your drug,
Your razor cut,
Your suicide note.
Touch your idol
Let my guilt stain your fingers.
Sometimes I think I can kiss
the sadness from your heart.
I did, but afterwards you sat up, all bones and dry hands,
And told me: There is a knot in your body that I cannot undo.
Sometimes you are gone for days at a time
you are right there,
Still waking next to me.
But your eyes are like an empty house
In the dark; lights left on to deter intrusion.
I am the intruder
You are locked up.
And I think I give you a reason
not to be so sad
As when I held your body like
a soaring note and we both trembled.
But it’s not enough.
Pushed away from you,
So that you can
dive to the depths.
When your reassurances of needing space
Hold no comfort, because you simultaneously tell me
You crave the company of others.
I’m sensitised to every silence, suspicious that you want something else.
In truth you do: another life,
That I suspect wouldn’t involve me.
My mistrust drives you wild with anger,
And we tear each other apart;