28/10/2013

enigmas of an introvert

sometimes the sky slants
when I stare away from your lips
towards the blinding cracks of sunlight
maybe with the dusk the clouds will re-configure

I couldn’t tell you why my irises bleed
when your eyes lower to lock onto mine
every so often my arms freeze in their sockets
when you reach over to test the waters 

I have unuttered bitterness sprouting
like vines from my skull, and as you softly pluck
wildflowers hang momentarily in the air
like wind chimes on still afternoons

gusts of stale smelling smoke streak
through the space in-between our forms
as stutters of newly forming secrets drag like a hunting knife
from your chest to stomach and back again.

15/10/2013

a passenger of inconvenience

you say I leave you blunt weapons and memories to find
maybe if you pulled something would give
and burst like a mosaic of woodlands and suicides

I’ve tried talking, tried polite smiles and greetings
but the words stick at the back of my throat
and will only dislodge with the end of a toothbrush   

now that you’ve lain here, its left an indent in my sheets
and when I fall asleep without you there
shards of soft metal find their way through my ribs

the nights are cold now and the moon is half empty
clusters of stars almost look like they could be constellations
of men riding horses through the mist.