LLJ

We sat on the stairs, I remember,

and talked.

About our lives and our selves.

We listened.

 

You saw me, I could feel it

– and I saw you too.

Our cuts and our bruises

shared. Pressed up against one another and

blocked out.

Just for a moment.

 

I remember it

– back against the bannisters,

shoes scraping on stair-grips.

Somewhere there was a word

or glance               or touch

that locked me in.

That made everything spin around you.

 

I’d catch your eye,

take your hand

and time would

stop.

---

I’m listening and I hear my name

said like I’ve never heard it before,

and I shatter.

A world falling away in an instant.

You are all that remains.

Of my heart.

Of my love.

Of me.

In one moment                                  

                you are everything to me.

I

A winter sun slides between the cracks in the shutters and

slips with a gentle rustle to the bed,

filling your skin inch by inch as

it presses the first glimpses of day into a half-closed eye.

A duvet-warmth flushes your cheeks with

the blush-reds of waking into cold morning air

and you lay a finger on my chest,

lightly tracing the surface as a spring

of warm water through snow.

Skin on my skin.

Breath on my breath.

We wrap ourselves here,                               

                                                nested close.

Till winter melts away.

---

I want to lie back in the grass and breathe you.

Wind touching your hair,

my head in the nook of your arm,

eyes full open and splashed

with the greens and browns of summer.

 

You turn away.

Shield your face.

II

Can you remember why we argued in Berlin?

I can’t.

You showed me the bruise.

I cried.

---

It’s late.        Downstairs the others drink and

I carry you away.   Clean you.

Wash your top.

I kneel and rub the shadow of your hand

from my chest.

You’re lying on your back and I should move you,

one more time and you’d choke on it.

I close the door.

They’ve gone        and I take a blanket to the floor,

block out acid air,

              sink down      to nothing.

With light you’ll call to me,

and I’ll come back.

And you’ll wrap your arm around my chest,

and I’ll lie still.

Look at me and I’ll see you.

All of you. Here.

Now.

Your storm and your calm.

Let me wash over you,

through you.

Water in your hair and lilac in the grass.

III

IV

They get louder the voices

their world

till it’s bursting

cutting

burning

tearing

Do you hear it?

Body shaking

you keep function till

you can’t

then no control at all

stretched out on

the bed the floor

fall to the ground

---

It’s so fragile

– light hanging on by one single thread in the dark,

one gust from nothing.

One delicate flicker of light dancing in the shadows.

So close.

The shadows move and twist and curl in circles.

V

I can be who you want me to be. I can shave my chest, arch my back. Be silent. Cry when you touch me. Scream. Bleed.

I’ll watch. I’ll tuck. I’ll starve. I’ll hack at my skin, my shoulders, my neck. I’ll shrink down to nothing and kneel for you.

I’ll  wait  while  you  look  at  her.

I’ll choke till my eyes are black.

VI

We sat on the stairs,

I know we did.

I woke up beside you,

lay with you in the grass,

I remember it.

Every time.

Every second.

And I don’t know what’s left.

Warmth.     Pull.

Love.            Fizz.

Touch.

Need.          Want.

Selfish.              Cruel.

Lie.        Choke.

Bruise.

Time stops, blurs, passes, oh boy, loses itself in street lamps, and what’s left?

I am hard.

I am soft.

I am man.

I am not.

I am hollow.

I bleed.

I scream.

I cry.

And I have hate

now.

You gave me hate.

And I don’t know how to wash it away.

- 2022-23