nearly two years

there are silent storms,

vast and engulfing, but

please, pretend you don’t

see them. thunder rumbles,

silent as sin and lightning

cracks just as invisibly as

you wish it could, how can

you shut your eyes to the

veritable collapse of these

castles; walls crumble and

the grounds shake but you

stand still, still, remarkably

still, how can I fall when you

are yet to even notice the

rotation of this earth, how can

I move the mountains for you?

How can I be so desperately

concerned while you are so

desperately indifferent, have you

forgotten that this is the end,

have you forgotten that we will

never again be this way, this is

an extinction, the end of the

planet and an era, how can you

fathom the depths of this ocean

when I can’t even sail it on a boat.

This could be the end of forever,

let me know if you

want to change that, I need

you to want to change that, because

I have never tired of you. I have

spent years by your side and have

never learnt to put up a guard, I

would never wish sadness upon

you my dear but please let me

know, let me know that this is

hard for you too, so I can sleep

tonight and every night that we

spend apart, do not leave me to

fight this alone.

I will never

begrudge you, these last six months

where we both knew we were

slow dancing in a burning room,

waiting for the walls to collapse,

there is no moment of this love that

I would regret, I mean how could

I resent a love that was like breathing,

that was like two years of the moment

where you get into bed after a long,

long day, and there is no atom that

could ever want to be

anywhere else.

Perhaps the most disturbing part

of it all, is how suddenly memory

foam turns to concrete, and how

desperately you want those silk

sheets to stop feeling like you’re

lying in tin foil, were you deluding

yourself? No, not at all,

it is remarkable what the human

mind can do when it wants

something to work so badly,

when the overwhelming fear of

failure that you never knew you

had kicks in and all of a sudden

two years have passed.

It is almost shocking, looking

at pictures of you with your head

that some other girl shaved, to think

that I really knew I would marry you

one day, to have laid the stones on

the path to forever, to have almost

set my dreams aside to make space

for yours, to have given up Paris,

New York, New Orleans, for the

little town that existed only in your

mind and your childhood, too small

for a girl who stands 5’10” in stature

and infinite in possibilities.

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how you can make me feel these

tidal waves of guilt, for the one

night of rough seas you were made

to endure, please take my apology.

I was supposed to be a lagoon for

you, blue in all my perfection, a

harbour to moor and heal, shelter.

You forget I have storms of my own,

too.

from all the gaps between

all the planets, all the spaces

between fingers and between

universes, there is nothing

further apart than this moment

from the moment that came

before and maybe this is why I

miss you so much. Not because

you are far from me, no, I see

you over my shoulder in all the

quiet moments, I smell you on

the shirts of friends and on the

hands of my grandmother, but

because the moments after you

have suddenly burst back in to

life, a fireball of memory, the

cornucopia of a childhood,

adolescence and brief adult

life that I was so lucky to share

with you, the moments that

come after these remind me

that there is nothing further

away, nothing in this world, in

this life, than the moment once

it has passed.

Seeing

Please try to not forget that

I see you, each and every day. 

In every armchair I see all of

the stories you told, in every

teacup is the scalding brew 

you drank, in every outdoor 

endeavor is your disdain for the 

cold, but love of walking dogs,

of your breath in the air on frosty

mornings and the lights of the garden. 
Every television plays

a loop of Westerns and reruns 

of Irish standup comedy, on

every plate sits biscuits, every 

microwave is always set to two

minutes, for how could anything 

ever be warm enough until it

burnt through two towels and some

denim?
In every pair of hands 

I can’t help but see yours, 

turning newspaper pages, 

finishing crossword puzzles,

and perhaps what frightens 

me the most are the unfinished 

ones, that will now wait 

forever to be finished, always 

a piece missing, 
how desperately appropriate.

Notes on boys who once loved you

A belated post, from a lifetime ago.

One. Their eyes will always shine differently when they see you, there still are shards of glass left in those irises from the day the car crashed and you decided to give up on them, you never got over watching him implode.

Two. It will never hurt less when you see them pass by, you feel his presence so strongly as he vibrates down your spine, he will never forget exactly how he got under your skin, you will remember the feel of his.

Three. His eyes on your body will never feel the same, once it held promise and a beautiful future whereas now it waxes and wanes through the bizarre spectrum of hatred to lust, do not believe either, you are more.

Four. Skip the songs that you heard with him, he never liked Stevie Nicks even when he said he did, there was a time when he would have said just about anything if he thought it would please you, maybe at some point he meant it.

Five. They will look better from a distance, teeth straighter and hair more perfectly wind-swept than it ever was up close, but do not forget to remember that your little sister said he was weird looking — and he is.

Six. When you are out on your bike and the breeze carries a scent that is all too familiar — hold your heart in place and your breath in your lungs, do not think of the way he would exhale, gently, as you sat together.

Seven. The nights you spent talking exist forever in the endless cycles of the universe, there is nowhere else for them to go, when you begin to feel sad by this boy who still loves you, remember that

Eight. As he was falling for you, you were not falling for him it was

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven. O’clock and you could not fall as you watched him love you over and over at

Twelve.

One.

Two. AM and the Arctic Monkeys never reminded you of him, he was never your favourite song instead he was cheap radio replays and MP

Three. downloads no more than a distraction, a pick-me-up, let him think that he is in control

Four. this is the only way you know how to deal with boys who hear no and think yes but you walk away

Five. It is early. Walk in, chin up, you know he is watching.

Four. Unromanticize him, the boy you had but chose to do nothing with, remember that no does not make you a bad person

Three. Let go of every time he did make your heart skip, you were frightened, sometimes boys are bigger than you.

Two. Unhold his hand, he took yours and it is your right to pull away.

One. You are you, and he loved you for that.

That bitch

Before you tell me

that my body is something I have to cover,

on the behalf of boys that

I will never speak to,

 

Let me tell you to FUCK OFF

because maybe I was born exactly like this

and my body is something I have

spent seventeen years coming to terms

with, and let me tell you right now that I

don’t have that kind of time to show you

how I did it, that each cell in this body once

reverberated with utter self-loathing

and some days it still does, sometimes

I am no more than a fucking tuning fork

because I shake so hard to the tune of

“I hate my body” and “my boobs don’t fit

this” and “I can’t buy skirts long enough”

because in a country of petite, I am long

legs, big boobs and hair that can’t be

tamed, I don’t need you to remind me.

 

I don’t need your dismissal, I don’t need

to hear how the needs of perverts and the

means that you use to control them come

above the fact that I needed to move today,

no one tells the ocean tide to stop when it’s

waves distract the shore, do not put my body

in the confines of “sexual” or “on display”,

I’ll have you know that I’m wearing clothes.

 

I wear clothes that empower, smooth legs and

skirts that fall above my knees remind me that

I am a woman and that I am powerful, that

no matter how many boys, men and teachers

say to me, “honey this is physics, are you lost?”,

that I have passed every test, that I study twice

as hard, not because I have to but because I can,

I took my maths two years early do not look

down at me under the façade of dismissal, I know

you just want to see down my top. But you know

what, I got my breasts from my mother and she

is the most powerful woman I know, I see you

trying to hide yours under baggy shirts and high-

necked 80’s wear, no one takes you any more

seriously just because you hate yourself as much

as they hate you, wear what you like, this is all

that will ever belong to you in this world where

women do almost seventy percent of the work and

own less than one percent of the land, do not think

you are superior because your tits are smaller than

mine.

 

Do not tell me what to wear when others tell me what

to think, others tell me what to feel, others tell me what

I will learn and where I will go, who I will be, and

God fucking knows that I do not need you to tell me

what will protect the only thing that will ever be mine.

Left

Leaving has never been a work of elegance,

I am yet to meet a person who can walk away with

Dignity, not when leaving loved ones, as no matter

How much greener the grasses are on the new land

That you step towards, a part of your heart is left behind. 

I am no exception. 

Tears in eyes, lump in throat, too much peanut butter 

and not enough time to wash it down, “I’ll see you soon!” I say and “come back whenever 

You can is the response, the choked words writhing with

All the words left unsaid in the brief time we had,

All the sunny days left to be had in the warm Autumn

That I now put behind me, take me to a picnic on a

Rugby pitch, not to the skies, I am a person not

A bird, I cannot fly away from you again. 

At home, you can’t drive me and neither can he but 

I want to be back at a midnight drive-through 

In my best dress, you wore suits and pieces of

My heart remain there with you, children playing

Grown-up right until the moment that we realized 

That we are just teenage nightmares in a dream world,

Perfect grades dance as tiny diamonds on a velvet 

Black sky of ambitions but we keep our eyes on 

The road, or at least I do as the window fogs and

We panic, panic, panic, it is 11:59 with a midnight curfew,

Am I discussing the car or this life?

I look out a window over the desert of these past

Few days, you are there and I am not, but you have

My heart and in the pieces scattered across beaches

And fields, I know, I’ll see you soon.