Fixation.

Lips that breathe life

ignite the heavens with a sigh

your hands my sin enfold me again

take me as a prayer melting soft on your tongue

spread a lovers lament over my skin

and douse me in flames.

Fall Together.

"I may have a broken soul"
is what your kiss whispered to my heart
and I spent all summer thumbing my nose at fate
taking from myself to fill the gaps of your own
I breathed my spirit into an empty cage
but every night as I washed the red down the bathtub
I realised that you never loved me
I guess neither did I

and that the only thing you ever gave me
was the gift of goodbye.

Cut.
When you cut me out of your life
make sure the blade is sharp
measure twice but cut once
don't leave an inch to spare
plan and prepare
so you don't waste time
yours as well as mine
cut till nothing remains
and you don't have to cut me again.

Waiting On Tempests.

Maybe this is how love ends

not to a screeching halt, but

slowly, gradually

with you as the bystander

watching in slow motion

the heaving and retching 

unable to do anything to stop its demise

it grows stale

and bitter on the tongue

it fizzles out

and suddenly you are alone

with not so much as a consolation prize

just the pathetic flickering

of a fading memory

like the afternoon sunlight

trickling in through the blinds

bleaching everything into white

erasing details carved into the night.

Love, A Memoir.

I've had enough of waiting

Waiting for something that doesn't want to come

Like speaking in tongues because you don't understand what my foolish hands are trying to say

There is a knot in my throat, where I once tongued your name

So with the moonlight as my witness, I sit on the edge of my bed, sweating out the insomnia

And question the questions I already know the answers to

"Maybe this is how love ends"

Slowly

Gradually

With me as the bystander

Helpless to do anything

I'm trudging through molasses trying to slow its demise

But it seems the more I try, the more I fan the flames that are licking at my ankles

I ask you to talk, and tell you I'll listen

But I will not hear the goodbye that stumbles from your lips

And now I am alone

With the pathetic flickering of a fading memory

Like the afternoon sunlight

Trickling in through the blinds

Bleaching everything into white

Erasing details we once carved into the night.

Hello 2016.

It's 2016 and I have finished my Instagram 365 days of Magnet Poetry.
Time to restart After Midnight with regular updates.