I only loved you
at 2am 
when your soul was bleeding out
& you were incurably alive.

(You only loved me
in the nighttime
when my clothes were off
& your heart was jostled next to mine.)

Everything in this city is in motion.

Everyone has somewhere to go,
and all the birds are flying across the clouds,
and all the trains and cars and buses and planes are hurtling
away.

And I am sitting here,
on a blue painted bench,
watching everything move
around me.

Let’s face it -
you don’t know what you’re doing here.

You have starlight boiling inside you,
bursting to escape your dreams

and an entire sea of whispered words and numbers
bricked up in the vault of set-aside intentions.

You haven’t looked at them in a while.
But take off your rose-coloured glasses, my dear.

Maybe all that stardust in your bones is turning into dirt,
and all the oceans of thoughts in your eyes are drowning.

And despite the knots and twists of your hair,
and the turgid words pouring from your mouth,
and the aches in your heart -

You are still beautiful,
& you are still loved.

What is she like?
(I’ve never thought to explain.)

She’s like out-of-breath laughter
and the glow of city lights.

She’s like a collection of rosy days
and the loneliest nights. 

She’s like an open book
and a closed door.

She’s like conversations about life
and nothing at all.

What is she like?
(She isn’t like anything.
She just is.)

(Source: clare-voyant)

There are over seven billion people in the world,
but over one hundred billion have ever lived,
in over one hundred and ninety-six countries
in a world comprised mostly of water
that has existed for over four and a half billion years.

& I have the privilege of coinciding
with you.

(Source: clare-voyant)

You loved everyone except for those who loved you in return. I loved you, wholly and completely selfishly, hoping that you would be a changeable man - and that I would be the one to change you. And so I fell in love with brush-offs and be-right-backs and cancelled plans. I was thrilled by your refusal to love. I thought I could be sustained purely on a blank wall between us. But I was naïve. And I was wrong. And only one of us walked away unchanged.

One day I will enthral you,
and dazzle you with my doe eyed looks.

One day I will ensnare you,
and bewitch your lips to mine.

One day I will enchant you,
and seduce your heart, but not your mind. 

One day I will enrich you,
and my magic words will sing you from your books.

I love late nights in winter, when it’s too cold to fall asleep and all I can feel is my toes shivering against the bedsheets, and all I can hear is the low creaks and snores echoing through the house. I love how all I can think about at two a.m. on the coldest nights is the battle between staying under the meagre warmth of the covers, and the desire to stumble to the wardrobe for a warm fleece. I love that I can ponder and shiver all night and somehow the cold takes away the dullness inside my head; like the winter erases my depression and invokes the need for survival instead. I love the raw, impossibly old instinct that overrides all else; how it screams at me to just get up and get something to make you warm. That’s when I know that there’s still hope for me, and that I don’t want to die. Because, after all the shivering, I will get up, stumble blindly to the wardrobe and put on a thick jumper. I will get something to make me warm. I love that I can’t be anything but honest in that moment, because I still want to live. I love that I shiver and freeze because it means I’m still alive, still living, and I still want to be. 

your body cavity leaches across the sheets.
      the emptiness of you reaches me -
           always.

She said she didn’t want to love anymore,
and yet she put her heart on a plate,
forgave the boys for their old habits
and did all the wrong things for the wrong people.

She said she didn’t want to live anymore,
and she still pulled on clothes each day,
watched the trains and buses pull away
with no desire to fall in their path.

She said she didn’t want to love
but really she just wanted not to love a loveless person,
and though she said she wanted to die,
all she wanted was to live on her own terms -

to love and live, 
wholly 
& completely. 

You came here with no hopes and 
curled fingers, 
barely breathing.

And now you’ve returned with upturned lips,
a new language,
outstretched fingers,
and still barely breathing.

My heart doesn’t beat;
it flutters like moth wings. 

My mind doesn’t race;
it ebbs and drips like an old tap.

My body doesn’t move;
I am still here, I am so still.

My life is
      slowly
           flatlining
                       out.

I want to read to you my favourite quotations from my favourite books. I want my favourite songs would play softly in the background whenever we meet. I want to show you my favourite pictures, and take you to all of my favourite places. I want to write you love letters in my favourite font and print it onto bright paper in my favourite colour. I want to fall asleep with you, watching my favourite movie, with the remnants of my favourite food scattered on china plates beside us. And most of all, I want all of these to become my favourite memories.

It’s midnight and -
I’m thinking of you.

Not stars,
not work,
or money,
or people
and their helplessness.

Just midnight -
and thoughts of you.

(Source: clare-voyant)

I think that
if everybody saw midnight
at the same time
and breathed in starlight
consciously
and together
then maybe
we all wouldn’t be
so lonely.

(Source: clare-voyant)