Broken flowers

White blossoms you gave me,
Congealed, as they died.
I thought it was us-
Reinventing ourselves
In those clean, cut shapes.

Want to draw on your skin,
The broken flower’s I have to give,
The flowers you once gave me.

In violent hues,
They wait
Tragic,
Like the secret
I wear vainly in my hair.

Want to paint on your skin,
The broken flower’s I have to give,
The flowers you once gave me

Ball and Chain

She used to admire intricate bobbles
Shiny objects behind shinier glass
The soft colours,
Feminine and elegant
And think “how can I wear this?”
It holds nothing for me.
Meaning. Significance. Memory

In a picture that makes her guts turn
She sees-
Small white circles –
A necklace,
Around a girls neck.
Her skin burns in an alcohol flame
When she realises-

This is why people wear what holds no meaning-
Why carry someone around your neck?

The Wilderness

What would you say,
If I told you
I ask the winds
To bring for me,
Your smell.

For a moments peace-
I lay down my head
And see you beside me.
Your tired eyes,
Reflecting all the worlds light.

What would you say,
If I told you
I dream of gathering you with my hands.
Like a little girl
Out in the wilderness
Bringing home with her,
Cherished treasure.

The pale room

So much truth in a pale room.
I must have been here, and not noticed.
A toothbrush, a bookmark, a clay fish;
Slowly loosing colour,
Definition.

I held so much stock by words.
On the walls,
Faint traces of lines I held to be true;
Smudge into a beautiful canvas.
An overstretched memory.

A mug, a vinyl record, a gold chain.

Hand -me-down’s

Where to begin love?

E-mails signed off
Your’s HornilyXXX.
The still life,
Full body photography.
The watch.
The one your father gave you,
You gave me.
Now-
A squeeze hand me down.

Oh and dear,
I hope you threw out all the underwear .
Those Christmas Boxers,
The one with the hearts-
Tad awkward for the other girl in your bed.