1). Only time I think about you is when I think of how I haven’t thought of you.

2). How is it that I miss you,

Without missing you?

Want you, without wanting you?

All I need to do is say no,

But how is one thing, a million things too?

Speaking to you through my notes is all I can ever do,

How could this ever be love when you’re not here too?

It’s more than a habit, less than an addict;

Somewhere in space,

Miles away from earth

We’re together and it doesn’t hurt.

Yes I’m over you,

But I could stay in this Space, here on Earth,

Being together, and keeping you out so it doesn’t hurt,

Just so I could keep you in here, this deep whole that never closed up.

When all goes wrong I think of you,

Because I know the dead don’t move,

And I don’t want to be alone –

So I carry on attaching myself to you.

You became my reflex,

And now I have to unlearn you.

You have to want too.

3). I believed in you,

And now I can’t believe in anything.

You did not break my heart,

You had my soul,

My mind in your palm.

You will pay for it, though,

With that loneliness that will never depart.

4). I’m backwards,

Trust the thoughts I shouldn’t –

And shun the ones I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t,

This is why I have to pay a therapist

To show me the way.

I’m backwards,

Born forwards,

But something turned upside down in me

When she left me,

The one who was supposed to love me no matter what;

And now I can’t be loved no matter what,

How funny is that?

6). You sinned to hide your sin,

And that’s what a coward is.

I’m the life of the party,

But I’ve given so much.

You want me to bring you in,

But you’ve already taken so much.

Attention and lust,

Hot pants and snogs.

Soak up my light,

Trying to have fun,

Leave me alone if you love me –

That’s why I knew you lied when you said you loved me.

You just want me.

I don’t understand how love doesn’t come with that.

7). One day you’ll be a 100 miles away from the heartbreak,

So far,

You won’t feel it, ricochet,

And shake the ground,

It won’t ever go but that’s why we move on.

8). And I wish I could let you love me,

But all I feel is that hole, an emptiness,

When you’re human, and vulnerable.

All I feel is shame, and disgust,

When you look at me.

My Mumma broke my heart,

And I can’t find the pieces,

Or the pieces are just set in stone.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always let you hurt me,

So the lava will come

And somehow stone will glow.

You locked me away,

But forgot, when found, my freedom will shatter your

Imaginary walls, and my heart in one blow,

So I can build a new one, a new home.

9). You always said I was the stars,

And you the sun;

But you knew that was true didn’t you?

That when you rise,

I would fall,

Become invisible,

And let you burn my world.

Don’t forget where you came from,

You’ll forget where you belong.

10). It’s all done to silence you,

Keep you stuck in their treacle trap.

But, you never thought I’d grow a new part to me,

And slip right out your reach

⁃ keep the old me.

Fleeting Fights

“Lies have speed, but truth has endurance.”

You did not lose me:

What is lost, can be found.

I don’t know what you did,

But you did not lose me.

I think when you feel those emotions,

You are at your strongest.

You’re not in real water,

Stand back,

And see this is as a symptom

Of his own evil.


And I loved where the water showed where the light was,

Where I could give life,

And not be asked much of afterwards:

Everyone was in love with me, but you,

I wonder why that was.

Was it because I had the life you had lost in a bet?

Was it because it made you feel good, to be excluded from the rest?

Did it make you feel good that it would only be us, standing together,

In this pond of no love?

I always said I could only love with you with my tears.

I kind of felt like a shopkeeper:

My shift was ending,

No one had been in –

Do I go,

Or stay,

Just in case you come in?

Love is not duty, I’m throwing the towel in.

Where you can’t prove,

You must choose

What comes natural to you.

It made me angry,

I had questioned my own sanity,

My yellow heart,

For a —- who lived in — own world.

I took on a burden that was not mine to have,

I was living with the issue of someone else.

I felt stupid for loving you,

But imagine having to hate, to bring someone close.

It made me laugh, towards the end,

How someone could destroy my soul,

And cry at the truth of theirs, when their reckoning came.

Don’t f*ck with me, I burn cold.

And when I watched the flowers on Eeshy’s heart grow,

I forgave the mud he had thrown.

When I saw the smile on her glow,

I forgave the tears he had provoked, and made flow –

Even left the hate and the judgement for him to make of his own soul.

When I saw the freedom she had created,

In the midst of battle cries and a war –

I knew she was made for this,

To be human,

To grow.

You will get past this, if you let your kindness flow. Forgive and still say no.

I had been taught to understand and empathise,

It takes thick skin, and a heart so soft – anything else would break it.

I was too young to understand my Mum had told me that,

So I would never have to question myself.

You did what you did.

You came into my house,

My body,

And did what you did;

There’s no redemption here, let me be a lesson to you if you come looking for it.

Apologies, here, mean nothing,

Just like a kiss can’t fixed ripped skin.

You want to change?

Don’t stand here and interrupt my healing,

To fix what you broke, when you broke me:

Did your mumma not tell you,

To hurt another,

Will just eventually rip off your own skin?

You need something irretrievably broken,

To keep you moving from what’s been your nature for so long,

When the sweat creeps in.

Intuition shows up,

Where ego, judgement and fear are not.

That’s why I know I must heal those wounds,

So they don’t get what they want.

I’ve seen that fear, that blind panic,

In men’s eyes too many times,

When confronted with the truth.

No concern or a bowed head,

As it should have been.

You are a coward, it’s what you’ve always been.

Let me return to my own thoughts and biases,

Issues and them all.

I’m done playing God.

For if I had sinned before,

His pain had washed me clean.

I thought I died before,

But being reborn?

Wow, the pain.

I’ve been at war too, Grandad,

I don’t want to be alone;

But running from vulnerability is what I’ve always done.

Your daughter broke my heart: you broke hers,

Took something, lost forever,

And now I am poisoned.

It’s all done to silence you,

Keep you stuck in their treacle trap.

But, you never thought I’d grow a new part,

And slip right out your reach.

Keep the old me, b*tch; you were always so keen to immortalise me.

Imagine hating yourself so much,

You run into a trap, just to get out.

Running too close to death,

The Devil burned me with His fire this time –

and you, you took too much;

Took my breath, to feel something,

In that cavity of yours where all nerve endings are dead.

I’ve given so much of myself,

Different places,

Dfiferent grounds,

Where the Moon goes around the Sun,

And stars can still shine against the blue.

I have so little for myself,

That I have a cave within,

That I cave into when I reach for myself.

Stretching against gravity,

Why are your arms so mean?

Please, please give it back,

You said you loved me,

But how can that be,

When you’re whole because you broke me,

Into pieces so scattered, my mind fell apart.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever been loved:

I’ve had obsession, hate enevloped in a kiss

Held in the middle of the air, and left when I didn’t float –

Guess you forgot there’s too much life in these feet.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever been loved:

They love what I give,

And show me they love back through wanting more.

Show me you love me, by stepping back, letting me breathe,

Like you want me to live, and not leave.

I’m in my head,

I live here,

Love here,

Work here,

It’s killing me, Ben.

My head is sick Ben,

My head isn’t me, Ben –

But it is killing me, Ben.

Sometimes sleep doesn’t take it away,

And sometimes I just want the days to end.

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be me,

And it was just another day of work to him.

Do you know what fear does to a girl like me?

I loved you so much,

But who was I loving?

No one told me the dead could be living,

No one told me about the ghost in my bed, I always thought monsters were under the bed.

If fear makes a man repent, I fear he’ll do it again.

When I was seen, I wanted to be.

That’s what makes you different from me.

Not all bullshit is to deceive,

It’s to protect,

And then it’s just relief,

When we both see.

It was all just a game, I know.

We were both playing too,

Maybe that’s why I felt so connected to you:

The same hurts, held in different ways.

I know if I changed the tune,

You wouldn’t mind dancing differently too.

Poetry For Pain

She told the world, not only could they not have better, they would also be the agent of their own demise – and that this, this was inevitable.

I just had to write a blog about this.

I have recently been binging the old and world-loved series, Sex and the City. Currently on season 3, episode 9 – and, yes, I have got here in just under four days.

But, having been completely outraged by season 3, episode 9, I had to channel my emotions somewhere.

Carrie Bradshaw slept with Big. Carrie Bradshaw slept with Big after finding the perfect boyfriend, who treated her better than Big ever could. Carrie Bradshaw crumbled after Big said he was leaving his wife for her, whilst drunk, and then told, whilst Big was sober, he wasn’t leaving her because the divorce would be too expensive. Carrie Bradshaw gave up a year of healing from a man who would not marry her, who then married another woman in less than three months. Carrie Bradshaw sabotaged her own future by sleeping with Big after telling her he ‘didn’t know’, but that he missed her, that he loved her, after he forced himself upon her and followed her whilst she was running away – evilly knowing she would crumble.

We all sat there, me, my mum, my sister, shouting at the computer screen as if Carrie could hear us. My sister refused to watch the show again and claimed Carrie was the most disgusting character she knew. My mum, even though she watched the show years ago, when I was just a toddler, ran out of the room in despair. And I, sat there, motionless, almost a little heartbroken myself. But, why? Why did this affect every single woman in my household?

Because all of us were Carrie.

My mum was a manifested version of Carrie’s ultimate downfall; me and my sister the product of that. And, as if it was in our DNA, I, myself, had chased after my heart in someone else’s hands – to the detriment of my own well-being, far past heartbreak. My sister had watched, growing up, the women around her fail, fail because of men – beyond immediate family.

So, were we angry at Carrie because we were angry at ourselves? Were we angry at Carrie, because we were scared of our own innate potential to be like her? Was it a way of distancing ourselves from our own hubris in flesh?

I wondered: I have always struggled with where the line is where it comes to tolerance in relationship. Me? I’ve always had a high one: I was the caretaker in my family. And I’ve been brought up to always try to understand why people do what they do. He couldn’t commit because someone broke his heart, he couldn’t do this because of x and y and z. And so on. But, truthfully? All it has EVER done is cause pain, deep pain – and allowed me to be taken advantage of. Granted, yes, I may have been understanding the wrong people, projecting some sort of humane explanation onto them – where humanity is lacked. And truthfully, I do it because I know I would always want to be understood.

I saw this in Carrie too.

But understanding is difference from tolerance, isn’t it? And empathy is difference from pity, isn’t it?

And, is there not two people in every situation? What about me? Why do we both forget about me?

What I did not have to wonder about, however, is the fact that Sex and The City failed all women. The lot of us. And instead, championed every single man that, my sworn arch enemy, Big represents.

Carrie marries Big.

What is worse, is that Big calls off the wedding by abandoning Carrie at the Church. And, again, after a whole year of immense pain and depression, Carrie marries Big.

And they live happily, ever, after.

I could not help but think the whole series, and sequential films, endorsed this damaging, backward fantasy that women must earn the love of a man, through self-sacrifice that could very realistically push anyone off the side of a cliff. This absurd fantasy that a man will eventually change for the woman that he loves. The bitter belief that having a wholesome, available and fully-ticked checkbox man, like Aidan – who Carrie cheated on for cheating, unavailable and abusive Big -, would never be fulfilling for any woman. And merely because they do not give us the ‘same butterflies’.

I was insulted. Almost violated.

The realisation that women are expected to transform a failure of a human being into a husband, was beyond me. It disgusted me. And, truthfully, I was angry at their mothers, their fathers. Their nature.

Now, this is not a spiteful, hateful speech aimed at the male species. It is also aimed at women like Carrie, women like me – and the damage they do to men like Aidan, who never even deserve it. But, that’s life isn’t it? The people who are damaged by others, in later-life, never do deserve it – they are simply damaged because they are good. Because they can be. Because they’re not far removed and deluded enough to be God- like, like Big. They are real, and here. Right in front of us. But they force us, women like Carrie, women like me, women like my Mum, to confront a very painful wound: Carrie could not bear the insanity of tranquillity, the peacefulness, the healthiness that was in her relationship with Aidan. The truth is, we are scared of being really and truly loved by a person who, if they did ever leave, would render a heartbreak that would take something away from our own soul. Ironically, we are safe with men like Big. We are safe with the predictability of their unpredictability. We are safe with the distance that pining for an acceptance, a validation, that will never be authentically given: we change with men like Big. And so, so are our truest selves.

So, I realised that self-love is not safe at all. I realised that love is, and always will be completely logical (to the opposite of Carrie’s beliefs) – but that a sexual connection will never be, a ‘love’ that disempowers you, and brings you to your knees, will never be either. How could it be, when the only logical thing, is to love ourselves? I’m talking about the self-love that brings the light to all of our darkest demons, our deepest hurts and outcasts them – so that humanity can thrive too. Profoundly, perhaps, we are programmed to self-destruct, despite all these survival instincts. Perhaps we are the masters of our downfalls, and some of us, like Carrie, do indeed fall.

Candance Bushnell, despite her genius legacy, failed all women, who are represented by Carrie. She told the world, not only could they not have better, she told the world they would also be the agent of their own demise – and that this, this was inevitable, inescapable.

‘Sex and The City’