Without you I am empty.
Refill my glass of wine
And I will tell you of all the ways I love you.
I’ve been drinking your words all night
And now I’m impassioned on the rocks.
And when I wake tomorrow
And when the hangover’s gone
I’ll be sober, but I’ll still smile.
I wrote this super quickly (in like ten minutes) at a Creative Writing meeting. It was meant to be an adaptation of a scene from Star Wars into poetry, and I picked one of my favourite parts of The Empire Strikes Back. (Just realised I could have posted this yesterday but never mind.)
You’ve always got to be the cocky one.
God, I never thought it would be like this.
There was once when I could not stand the sight of your face
But now, I’d give anything for time to freeze
So it would be all that I could see.
One fleeting moment
They’ve surrounded us but it feels like only you and me
Only you and me in this city of the sky
Only you and me, and I don’t want you to die.
Maybe this is just a test
Maybe it’ll be alright
Maybe you’ll come back to me.
Maybe the next time that I hear your voice
You’ll be the one to say I love you
And I’ll be the one to say I know.
You are my evening star.
You gave me everything that I ever wanted,
After I wished and wished on you.
And now, all I can repay you with is this:
I will love you with my imperfect heart.
Your mind wanders to him when you are doing the washing-up, and you cannot open your mouth for fear of the words falling out. You are in love, you have never been this much in love, and your heart is so swelled with it that it stoppers up your throat and turns your hands sweaty. You wonder what he would say, that sweet boy who makes you shiver, and you know that the moment you confess, your sky will crack open and your world will burn. He has taken hold of you without even noticing, his fingers clenched around that sorry organ in your chest that struggles to beat against his palm, and he can let it go or crush it to pieces. You hope, you hope to God, that he will let it go, so that the pain might end and you can finally breathe again.
I don’t want love that spirals from a script.
I want wooden, stilted dialogue
I want the critics to hate us
I want badly-drawn clichés
And I want jokes that nobody gets
Because we improvise
Because we don’t know what we’re doing
Because I am bad with words when they are not written
Because we aren’t on a silver screen
Because we are here and we are now and we are so alive.
I don’t want to live in a monochrome world
I want you and your glorious technicolour.
Please click through for full size! 🙂
Sixth in my poem series based on colours and memories. This one is probably my favourite of all of them. More to come!
Other colours: Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange, Red
I used to want the world to love me
And then I grew up
And realised that you were the world
This is kinda old but I figured I’d post it anyway.
You have no shirt. You smell like morning
Sweat and soap and fabric softener
Sweetest smell I’ve ever known.
You wipe the food from your mouth, and I
Wonder what your lips would feel like against my thigh.
I want you to go on holding me
In that way that only you can do
Only you can make me feel
Like I’m not broken any more.
I watch your eyes as I hide secrets behind mine
Do you ever think about what we could be?
I crave your touch at 3AM
And wonder if you’d do it if I asked.
We are fucked up, fucking up,
Fucking in this mess I dreamt up.
Fingers linger on the button, don’t know what to do.
Do I share? Do I let the most secret parts of me
Be visible to you?
I close my eyes. No. I haven’t got the guts.
Just bones and skin and a thumping heart
Lungs stopped working because I can’t breathe any more.
I need air.
You’re the sweetest poison, the most delicious toxin.
Every time you’re near I choke on my love.
When you smile I start to drown
And when you talk to me, I suffocate behind a laugh.
Like a first cigarette, I splutter
Like my first vodka shot, I’ll spit you out.
A dangerous pleasure and an awful addiction
I want to quit you, but I burnt down rehab.
A quick summary of my thoughts today.
The crinkles of your smile tell the best kind of story.
I want to trace your freckles with my fingertip and lose myself in the beauty of your eyes
Press my thumb to your lips before I catch them with mine
And lose myself in the sweetest way.
Sometimes I think about the way you smile
And I want to die.
Sometimes I think about the way you laugh.
I want to cry.
You reduce me to banality and insufferable giggling
And tears in my bedroom when my charade cracks.
I broke my heart into pieces already, just so it would be out of the way.
Better sooner than later, I always say.
Though I procrastinate the truth, and that way it shall stay.