I broke my own eyesight with St. Patricks closed fist
in a bar fight with the boyfriend of my first Kiss Me I’m Irish
I might have layed on the accent a little
Talked with more than a little flair
But In love and war and drunk girls on Exhibition street
All’s fair, so I got beat fair and blue and white
You should have seen the other guys from this side of the bar(s)
Lust
Maddison
She’s broken, like me
a fragile little marionette
I played with her heartstrings
enough to hear her smile sing
we kissed in an empty schoolyard
elegent apostles leaning awkwardly
no truth in love we dared to tell
our lie was told to spite this hell
and our lie was love. Adolescent one of us
enough to be a secret trist, our cloak and dagger
toke and drag, her coughing
cold air showed her breathe
and when I held her skin to mine
a whispered “yes” was all it took
for the last shred of innocence to leave
Forgiveness?
I want to hate fuck her.
Amelia.
kiss those lips and say
“We’re never going to be together
Like this again”
And smile when she realises
what she’s lost.
Spoon, sugar, bitter pill
resentment is the opening of old doors
closure can only be achieved by
closure
and I’m too busy
knock three times
it’s locked for a reason
Schoolboy
It occurred during the annexation of words from my tongue
bleeding, hopelessly I clawed at your shoulder blades
until a sickness welled up inside and I spewed out
apologies and unsent love letters from a few months back
when you still smiled at the mere mention of his name
and when you didn’t call him yours.
Finally, you thought.
I was never quite alone in my lament
kept the company of poets and my thirteen year old self.
Here was a girl that made me feel like muesli bars at recess
and I could never quite get the lions wish to sp sp speak my mind.
Back then it felt like forever
but little did my little boy self know that in a few months
she would need the comfort of cliché scrawling’s
because the smile she once displayed so radiantly
broke
and along with her heart and the title of ‘mine’
he would be painted out of the picture.
Despite the fact I’ve made myself a fool
I still offer everything I am worth
and if you happen to change your mind
you can find me swinging life away.
Morning, Mourning
Mornings come and go
with the sting of immunisations
and melancholic morning breath
we drifted from this ephemeral moon;
From milk and sugar
to black and one
we started our lives together.
Highschool bullshit 