You.

Your smile is a work of art.
But not one that I could hang above my fireplace.
No, one of incomprehensible beauty
that I could only admire from a distance
in some hipster gallery in Soho
and only dream of owning.

Your eyes hold constellations in their sparkles.
Though not ones that I could easily pick out of any night sky.
No, yours are from a whole different galaxy,
awe-inspiring yet untouchable,
ones that only exist for the privileges of NASA’s finest telescopes.

Your body is an ocean.
One so deep and enchanting,
that the idea of swimming in you is overwhelming.
For now, I will just paddle my toes in your warm, clear blue shores,
and allow your gentle waves to wash over me in indelible silence.

Your lips tell soft stories,
weave words out of thin air.
But not any that I could write down, or dare to repeat.
For their beauty is ephemeral, evanescent
in their nature
and my amateur tongue could not do them justice.

You are
all at once
magnificent and all-consuming.
Yet somehow,
still mine.

roses

You said that you were scared of roses
And I think I said I was too.
You said they were prettier than you,
but I said I don’t think that’s true.

I think you have been misguided
I think you have been misled
If you’d see you the way that I did,
If only you could see into my head.

You said the night sky it scared you,
but not because of the dark.
But because your eyes would never
sparkle like those shining stars

I think you have been misguided
I think you have been misled
If you’d see you the way that I did,
If only you could see into my head.

You said the open water scares you,
because what if you never felt that deep?
I said sometimes you’ve gotta swim out
into the vast expanse of sea.

And what if you were always right?
What if roses they were prettier,
and the stars they shined so bright?
Well, in that case I have been misguided,
and I have been misled,
because there’s nothing of more beauty to me
than what’s inside your head.

it’s her i love

I love the sounds of her voice over video call, when we’re both close to falling asleep on opposite ends of the line, but neither of us want to hang up just yet.

I loved that first day, when she got into my car at the train station, and I kissed her, and it was perfect.

I love making her laugh, an inappropriate joke or a silly face, the chorus of it echoing through my ears.

I love it when she says “I know how you feel” and “I understand”, and I know she means it.

I love the way she knows what I’m about to say, before I’ve even opened my mouth, just from the look on my face.

I love that in a room full of crowded people, our eyes will still find each other’s.

I love the way she holds my hand under the duvet as we’re falling asleep, like the way otters do.

I love the way her body feels pressed against mine. Skin on skin, and nose to nose; it feels like everything is falling into place.

I love the way she makes me feel safe; I forget about my worries, and the rest of the world fades away.

I love that she sees something in me worth fighting for, when I can’t see it myself.

I love her soft lips against mine; I could get lost in those kisses for days.

I love that when I feel like I’m falling apart, she shows me how to put my pieces back together again.

I love our story, how it all began, and all the adventures we’ve had, and are still yet to have.

I love that she calls me her future.

Because she’s mine.

It’s her who I love.

the love you choose

My eyes burn from the tears I’m not crying
because I swore
I wouldn’t let what you did
hurt me anymore.

My hands are balled into fists
that won’t punch any walls.
The cracks in my heart not longer reflected
in brickwork
or frames of doors.

My mouth is pursed,
from words I’ll no longer let myself say.
I won’t pay any more lip service
to all the hell you raised.

But my heart remains open,
though still slightly bruised,
to accept the love from another,
and this time, it’s a love I choose.

road map.

I have been broken before.
Broken into so many pieces
I may as well have been
dust
on the floor.

Not the pretty “fill it with gold”
kind of broken either.
The ugly crying on the bathroom floor
in the cold,
kind of broken.

And not just once either. Numerous times.
Sometimes just a hairline fracture.
Sometimes nothing more than a bruised ego.
But sometimes, my heart completely ruptured.

And how do you recover?
Still put one foot in front of the other?
I have no answers,
But I know that I did it.

Some people might say,
my heart is still broken,
if I still write these words.

But I say,
the cracks left in my heart
were nothing short of a road map
that led me
to her.

Lost at sea

I’m lost at sea and don’t know where to find me.
Thought I’d moved on and left it all behind me.
But it creeps up on me in the night,
Not out of mind or out of sight.
It still hits me like a train and still blindsides me.

When do you know that part of you is dead and gone for good?
I’m stumbling, can’t find my feet, nor see the trees for wood.
Will it be hours or months or days?
I have no idea who gets to say.
But right now it feels like it’s still crawling, swimming through my blood.

And when will it stop?
How will I know?
When I thought I’d reached the top of everything that I had ever known.
When can I breathe?
Or let go and scream?
When will this feeling go?
And how will I know?

Sometimes I feel I’ve taken two steps forward and three back.
It’s hard to feel like I am safe when I’m running off the tracks.
What’s next for me – promethazine?
To quell the nausea slowly killing me.
So I’ll keep avoiding manhole covers and all the pavement cracks.

I’ve reached the point I no longer have the patience.
To be polite and maybe not just say this –
You fucked me up, yes you with the beard,
You led me on for all those years.
But is it me that’s left to blame for my complacence?

And when will it stop?
How will I know?
When I thought I’d reached the top of everything that I had ever known.
When can I breathe?
Or let go and scream?
When will this feeling go?
And how will I know?

What if

What if one of us died,
And I never got the chance to tell you
I love you
Just one last time?

What if one of us died,
And the last thing we spoke about was
What we were having for dinner?

What if one of us died
And we never had the time
For one more hand hold?
Or one more hug?

What if one of us died
And I hadn’t told you how sorry I was
For every time I made you cry
And wasn’t there to hold you to make it all better?

What if one of us died,
And you didn’t know,
That sometimes you were my only reason for living?

What if one of us died,
Just peacefully in our sleep,
And the last thing the other would have to remember us by
Was the last good night text?

Well here’s my chance:
You’re it for me.
The end to all my endings,
My queen in shining vans.
I’m sorry for all the upset I’ve ever caused,
And I hope you can forgive me.
Because if we have forever together, I’m yours if you’ll have me?

What if one of us died tomorrow and our love story ended at 550 days?
Well it would never end there for me,
You are a piece of me now and I’d carry you, the way I’d hope you’d carry me,
Into our next little infinity.

this is how we learn.

You’ll teach me how to skip stones on the ocean,
And I’ll teach you how to dance on the sand.

You’ll teach my heart to thaw what was once frozen,
And I’ll show you how to say words with your hands.

I’ll teach you ukulele, sat cross-legged on my bed,
And you’ll teach me how to cook, the way your Ba does it.

You’ll teach me not to listen to the horrible thoughts in my head,
and I’ll teach you about the Himalayas and the height of each summit.

We’ll both teach each other, what it means to feel free,
From judgment, from doubt, from the stares of onlookers.

We’ll learn from each other’s bodies as we tangle the bedsheets,
and soon we won’t care about the words spoken by others.

You’ve taught me more in these 549 days
than I could’ve ever learnt from a textbook or teacher.

That’s what I mean, when I hold your hands and your gaze,
And tell you, your beauty to me is your least important feature.