Six Degrees of Separation. 

Six degrees of separation

Neither here nor there 
Just a face or just a body; never the full person 
Dancing the tango with fleeting questions, invisible answers

Still own a name in my brain space though recollection of shared memories scarcely exist

Perhaps just a figment of my lonely imagination

Fragmented stories and half-gossips 

What if I am falling for a ghost I only heard of but never spoke about

My bare hands reaching out but unable to stroke the intangible closeness of heartstrings 

How much do I know of a shadow if all I see is movement in temporary light and 

Her body always in rhythm with the perverse arms of another that already has someone to call home 

Can love exist in such a liminal space 

Of memory gaps and obligated pretence

Hearing the echo of her voice and the taste of her mythical being  

Only through the mouth of another

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Flight. 

Always in transit
Never settling

Moving shifting changing  

Like red blood cells 

Always on the road

Running down the veins  

Nowhere to call home 

Thrown from house to house 

Personal spaces transform into changing rooms

And the heart is a revolving door 

Opening to nothing and closing to everything 

– 

When can I stay and embrace, 

Without taking flight from every borrowed nest? 

What happens to birds that are tired of flying, I wonder, and why we never hear of them? 

Then, I realise that buried wings cannot share tales. 

Battles. 

You say we pick our battles That we have to choose which are the ones worth fighting for 

But sometimes the battlefield beckons my name 

And I have to answer 

With fists tightly closed around armoured words and harsh truths 

Eyes locked in a violent embrace

Listen to the drums beating in my chest 

Fight 

Fight 

Fight 

Until Death stops calling my name 

We are The Girls. 

We are the girls 

Always glimpsing searching craving 

Guys undeserving
Dig into my weak flesh 

Dive deep in temporary passion 

Damage daydreams of romantic ends
Hold my breath hostage 

Hint at nonchalant carelessness 

Hijack my habits and my thoughts 
Touch the bandaged skin 

Tell sugar coated truths with dyed lies

Twist your words and knot my flexible heart
We are the girls 

With the cracked tangled broken hearts 

No longer afraid 
Willing to play the game 

Steel, metals and manufactured hearts of gold 

On sleeves of leather and worn denim 

Flowering. 

Flowers under my skin Burst veins form petals and lost cells form world maps

From buds to blooms to blood 

Growing from the pain 

Turning light yellow before the beautifully morbid red blue purple ensemble 

Kaleidoscope of colours 

A garden of sorrow and accidents 

Me; Growing out of pain 

Temporary decoration, dye, determination on skin

Fading into oblivion

Invisible presence and tattoos for the lonely heart

Living on underneath superficial surfaces 

My own Garden of Eden 

Bird Call. 

I stood there

In all your feathered and disguised glory 

Listening intently to your bird call 

Admitting immense loneliness

Even beggars need love and another pair of wings when your own fails

The persistent melody soaked surrounding leaves and 

Coloured the evening wind of change 
I witnessed 

How beautiful it was 

How you stayed in your spot with dignified hope 

How nobody ever came

Untitled #25. 

Can someone tell me a story about a pair of lovers that end in tragedy? 

Particularly out of selfishness, carelessness and despair. 

Because I want to know what happens 

When you fall in love with someone who does not love himself

Enough 

And the pain of him never seeing himself in the light that you do sets in; 

Burning you alive and taking the romance away.