December 13th, 8:30PM (13/12/2015)

I want to write about heartbreak
And all the ways I hurt.
But with heartbreak, I don’t feel anything in my chest.
Instead, my eyes strain, bulging
With the force of a thousand teardrops behind them.
I want a song about the way my cheeks feel tight
From all the dried-up tears that streak them
And how my nose is raw and running,
Dribbling like a filthy infant’s.

Or how about the way my stomach rumbles
Because I made my dinner, sat down to eat
Before you told me we were done.
I made my favourite; you made me cry,
And now I hate the sight of it.

Blindfolded (7/12/15)

Hands and wrists bound, in
The way I wish your heart was to mine.
Only blackness greets my eyelids
Only crisp air caresses my face.

I do not know who took my sight.
Maybe it was me, in a fit of anxious frenzy
Or you did it without even noticing.

Someone whispers in my ear;
Tells me that one step means the end.
My foot hovers in thin air like a hook –
The moment it touches a river’s surface
About to plunge into the water for a fish.

For fear, I cannot make myself move.
I hear your footsteps echo somewhere
Somewhere far away from me.
I cannot call out to you.
What if you were to pull this mask off my face
Let me stare into a lonely abyss
Before you push me to my doom, alone?

But the whispers will not stop
And you have not come to save me
And I am stuck, foot aloft, eyes blind
Fearful of a fateful step
And longing for the touch of your hand
A hand that will pull me back from the edge
A hand that will touch my whitened face
A hand that will rip the cover from my eyes
And will show me that the abyss was never there.

 

Snow (3/12/15)

December brought snowflakes.
I pile them in my hands
Dreading that they will slip through my fingers
Frozen winds turn my tears to ice
But I shield the flakes as best I can.
Tiny glittering stars of a better time
A time of midnight talks
And drunken kisses
And your arms around me.
They glisten in my chilled palms
And I wait for the inevitable wind
Or the heat of my body that I hold them close to
Or the invisible, quiet pass of time
To tear them all away from me.

Christopher (14/11/15)

Sorry for the lack of updates, I have been really busy with work for my MA. Here’s a love poem/response to Christopher Marlowe’s ‘The Passionate Shepherd to His Love’, which is one of my absolute favourite poems of all time.

Come live with you and be your love
You said, the pleasures we would prove
I am soft and bright and new
And I am so deeply lost in you.

In this bed of flowers I lie
And gaze up at the summer sky
I am young, naive, unwise
And always dreaming of your eyes.

I will walk alone on country roads
And over rivers, hills and meadows.
I will sit on rocks and wait for you
And pray that you will be with me soon.

You meet me at the riverside
And turn me to a blushing bride,
In the water I lose my golden shoe
But it is soon brought back by you.

You will cover me in pretty things
And we will listen to the songbirds sing
Draw patterns on each others’ skin
And wait until the night draws in.

I’ll watch and laugh as others dance
And drown myself in this romance
For I have nothing left to prove
And we will live and be in love.

William and Christopher (28/9/15)

I’ll possibly extend this later, but I just wanted to get some ideas down. You can probably tell which theories about Shakespeare/Marlowe’s lives I buy into based on this.

I.

He sits alone in a dimly lit room
His eyes narrowed as he writes through the gloom
Left his wife behind in their second-best bed
Others wonder if their marriage is dead
When he writes words of love for a dark-skinned girl
And for a golden-haired Southampton earl.

II.

He owes far too many men to count
His minor crimes start to amount:
A darkened jaw from a brutish fight
They call him heretic. Maybe they are right.
He’ll meet his end on a liar’s knife
When a tavern brawl will take his life.

III.

Kit first, in the tale of a king
Time will make it a significant part:
For Will will be second and far behind
With six years’ worth of a heavy heart.
They will both write those words in blackest nights,
Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

Love in the Time of Anxiety (2/8/2015)

Title inspired by ‘Love In The Time of Cholera’ by Gabriel García Márquez, which has one of my favourite titles in literature. This is for anyone who is in any kind of loving relationship, but their mental illness makes them feel like they can’t always tell them how much they mean to them for fear that they will come off as clingy, overemotional, annoying or jealous.

I am too scared to tell you that I love you.
Every word I bring up is swallowed again
To drown in the pits of me, unheard.
Sometimes it escapes, only to leave
My embarrassment in its wake.
There’s no use in it, you already know
And one thought haunts me:

What if I say it one time too many?

Luminescent (31/7/15)

For the person who helps you to help yourself.

I wander alone during sleepless nights
And dream of your mouth pressed to mine.
These nights are long and lonely
But then, the day breaks:
Spill your light into my dark crevices
And guide my hand to my own light switch.

You are luminescent.

When you do good
You shimmer like sunlit gold.

I will chase the sun and hope
That I will find you there
Among the rays of gleaming white
And I will share them with you.
It’s almost morning
And you are there at the horizon.

When you’re with me
I can light myself up.
I can switch the tired batteries for new ones
And power myself again.

Your Song (31/7/15)

You are the song I play loud in the car
Screaming down the motorway
As I belt you at the top of my lungs

You are my drunken yells at 2am
I will spill my drink as I roar your words
In a cheap club that smells like beer
Dancing to the beat that everybody knows

The sweet tune of a busker on a busy London street
I can hear you in every note, every word

You’re the commercial jingle that gets stuck in my head
I’ll hum you all day long

The song I turn up the radio for:
That’s you

You are a love song
And sometimes I may sing the words wrong
Because I am so wrapped up in ecstasy