Our Argument.

Wicked you are with muse

Who knew you had the power to vex.

Bring me your stone eyes.

Abstain from sex.

Viciously quiet you are

Injecting me with shame.

The torture is the stillness.

The conditions of the game.

Come and lay you seething mass with mine.

Answer every servile comment with “fine, fine”.

Tell me when I am still young

What I have done wrong.

Tell me of the shame I've earned.

Sing it like a song.

Weight it up and look ahead,

And with this fleeting foresight,

Say out loud what I want,

And learn to put it right.

“It looked like a small broach”, you said,

Encircling your fingers and looking through.

When as a child you’d coughed up a sweet

That very nearly ended you.

Your mother whacked you on the back.

The item careered through BHS.

A piece of hot-pink confectionary,

Landed on a lady’s dress.

You told the anecdote so well.

I imagined you in mid-near-death.

Panicked amongst the cream silk blouses

Until the whack made way for breath.

With the ordeal over and dress removed,

The shop assistant mimed “it’s ok.”.

It didn’t put you off sweets at all.

You dice with hard-boiled ‘til this day.

Our new day-glow orange shower curtain
Casts an inappropriately erotic light over the bathroom.
I get in the shower, feeling like I should tuck a fiver into its folds.

The curtain clings to my leg, climbing its way up.
It has decided to make love to me,
This erotic shower curtain.

I cannot go through with it, I peel it off me
Push it away.
“Filth curtain”, I say.
I shave my armpits in the awkward silence.

My Dirty Beauty

Himalayas of crispy clothing,
The scenery of your room.
A baked-in smell of chiropody.
Flowerbeds of mould, in bloom.
A Kitkat packet between the toes.
Spoons and bowls, married together.
Brown stains at home on every wall
As if each one had been there forever.

Snot-encrusted toilet paper.
Cups of fudge, once cups of tea.
But through it all I just see you,
My very Dirty Beauty.

For Lewis

Misery

Misery cracks through my frozen bones.
It dances on my see-through skin.
It crushes upon this moments breath,
Until it cowers and crawls back in.
Misery weds it’s purpose to my own.
It’s very concept is my heart.
It is the nightmare of my bitter senses.
It mocks my shaky words before they even start.
Misery looks down on us from its high tower.
It’s siren of destruction loud and shrill.
Misery grows with us forgetting, so remember,
Tomorrow will be better, yes it will.

Custom make me with your brand new touch.
Make me sure and bold but not too much.
Twist my every doubt back into knowing.
And never let me feel an ounce of owing.
Cast my worries into sand.
Bring my temper back to land.
Encourage my dreams to stand up proud.
Tempt my feelings to speak out loud.
Flush my heart simply by living.
Change my selfishness to giving.
Tease my smile into sight.
And for love, teach me to fight.
All this and more you do for me.
This is how love should be.

I must have been intoxicated
when I promised I as yours.
I must have been asleep
when I committed.
For I simply can’t remember
when I sank into you claws,
Or when I wore the jacket
you had fitted.
I didn’t even realise
what a contract I had signed,
Nor notice the cool shackles
on my skin.
I put away my doubts,
about the bliss you had designed.
But now I see the shit
that I am in.

True love will still wank off to someone else.
True love will still hide porn under the mattress.
True love will still lie about your arse.
True love will still hold firm that you’re a goddess.
True love will still allow a little flirting.
True love will still warm to memories past.
True love will still sweat through the verbal skirting.
True love will kid themselves that it will last.

I know that this is closure,
It’s clear as day to read.
I’m telling you it’s closure,
But you threaten that you’ll bleed.
I can’t remember what you’re like.
Indifference, on its way.
You say that I’m dramatic.
You finish what I say.
No laughing with each other now.
Our tone of voices low.
Feeling strangely old and bored.
Our text replies so slow.
You projects have you day and night.
Months and months go by.
Our sparkless interest fizzles out.
I know exactly why.
Tonight again, I sew together
Emotional invention.
You ring me when you’re feeling bad,
I sip my forced attention.
Half arsed invite on the phone.
A shyness starts to grow.
I do not know you anymore.
Want you to let me go.