Fleeting Fights

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 to too.

3). You sinned to hide your sin,

And that’s what a coward is.

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.

4). 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.

She 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.

5). 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.

6). 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.

Poetry For Pain

“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.


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.

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.

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,

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.

Nakedness.

Let’s talk about naked bodies.

I had a complete existential crisis today.

I had taken some photos in my bra + shorts (it’s 31° today, in England) on my new Polaroid camera. They were cool, they were sexy. I looked good, I felt good.

I, impulsively, posted them on my private Instagram. And then very quickly deleted them.

Now, I only have 60 followers on Instagram, but my anxiety went UP.

I started catastrophically thinking. What if someone wants to be nasty and send them into my sixth form? What if someone keeps them and gives them to a future employee?

I struggle with paranoia now, after what I went through last year. Expecting the worse is a safety mechanism, I guess. My body, my mind, could not cope with another traumatic effect: it wants safety, and safety is what is going to help me heal.

I also was questioning my morals a lot. Like, why am I doing this? What is it for?

Part of me felt as if it was the fact that I just want to feel confident in my body. I want this fear-based thinking gone, this looming insecurity that can ruin my day in a millisecond. In fact I need it to be gone.

I wanted to do what I wanted to do, without letting other people’s opinions and beliefs censor that. After all, this isn’t murder we are talking about. This is a personal choice that does not catastrophically affect anyone else; if someone accused me of affecting them through the way I’d dress, I imagine they would have overestimated the power of me and underestimated the danger of them.

So, then I was like: would I actually walk around, in public, wearing a bra and shorts? Would I let people see my underwear at all? And if I didn’t, why the hell not? Because people would stare? Because it would be inappropriate? Am I not hypocritical for posting something I would NEVER do in real life? Am I not hypocritical for posting something when there is no way I could stand in my underwear, in front of my peers? Is there any way I wouldn’t feel embarrassed if other people looked at the images, in my presence?

I guess that’s because social media is an insight in our life, behind closed doors. So, really, it isn’t about that anyway.

BUT.

It’s all well and good posting things on social media: it removes us a reality away from the reality. Kind of gives the same effect dissociation does.

I think I want privacy, you know? I think I want that.

And then I was thinking, why is lingerie different from a bathing costume? Why is it, my friends can show their bums on social media, in a bikini, and I can’t show off my cleavage and stomach?

What is the moral line between lingerie and a swimming costume?

Another part of me was also like: “If I don’t show what I have, I will regret it.” But, there it is. The battle between the ego, and the soul.

What I would regret, is not showing other people.

And, ‘what if’, I regret forcing myself to be something I’m not?

How could I regret feeling comfortable, feeling confident in what I chose to wear. How could I regret having a ball of a time when I go out, because I didn’t dress in a way that made me feel insecure?

Is this where I accept something within myself, rather than pushing myself to be something I’m not?

Does this go past feminism? Isn’t the advocacy for body confidence merely just the demand to make a choice between modesty and nudity? Surely it’s not demanding I be nude? Or be modest? Surely, it’s just allowing me to make a choice about the way I choose the express myself, whatever gender I am?

Although I wanted to, predominantly, post that picture to make a stance about a female’s body, because I always felt that the more I showed, the less there was to me – and I wanted to change that. Was it actually a reflection of me? Or was it more fraudulent to post something so bold, and flake when it came to manifesting that rebellion in my real, present day life?

Because even though I, as a woman, believe I have a moral obligation to empower myself, and those around me, to break the chains that were made to imprison a woman, I am also a person. I am not just a woman. I am much more than gender could ever confine.

I am a soul, with insecurities, and confidences. I love parts of myself, and love others less. I have my own approaches, my own individual path to follow.

And it’s not that my body is a gift to give, it’s not that it is a prized possession to be possessed. It is a fragile thing, with a lot of fear in it. It has been bruised and violated. It is something that is at its best, when it feels safe. And maybe, that’s okay. Maybe it’s okay to give into what my body wants. And it needs care, not force.

Again: it needs care, not force.

Posting a picture to tell others, my body is not theirs, is meaningless. I cannot tell anyone what else to think. I may be able to influence them, yes, only if my truth speaks to something within them, that only they are responsible for. But, I could say it till I’m blue in the face, and there will be a person, maybe more, who does not treat my body the way that I want them too, the way I feel they should do.

Who does need to believe it, who does need to oblige and listen and respect it, is me. Posting that picture? Does nothing for me. Absolutely nothing. It just puts a penetrable space between me, and them. It’s not real vulnerability, it’s just ignoring how I really feel and getting on with it, till all that is compressed… rots and spews out in so many other ways when I’m older.

What I really need to do is find me. By acknowledging I can empower myself with either nudity and modesty. And find where I am on either side of that spectrum, or between that, away from everyone else. And, then, then I shall see where I slot into society. How I can manifest me.

I can absolutely encourage others to be exactly what they want to be, against the odds and the persecution their peers lead against their personal + harmless choices, WITHOUT needing to join.

I will join, when I know it is what my body wants. When I know it is a deep desire for me. And not some moral obligation I am obliged to carry out. That will take time, and less thinking, with more feeling.

That, that is my middle ground.

I think it is okay to reject the things that cause me to overthink and stress. I think it is okay to want peace. And I don’t think I could ever regret that.

So… to conclude … If I can’t do it in real life, I shouldn’t set a false expectation on my social media. And I don’t need to berate myself for that. What I need to do, first and foremost, is cultivate confidence and positivity, and see where that leads me 😽

AJ ❤