You and I

You smiled at me, I hated you.

You told me you cared about me, I smiled.

You told me not to listen to idiots, I laughed.

You held me and told me everything would be ok without him, I cried.

You told me I deserved better, I held you tight.

You told me that you missed me, I waiting to hear your voice at the end of a line.

You told me that you wanted me to come visit you, I arranged my life around you.

You told me that you were going to come surprise me, you didn’t come to see me.

I waited for you, you never showed up

I defended you, you didn’t care

I held you, you pushed me away

I cared for you, you didn’t think twice about me

I loved you, you tried to love me

You poisoned me, I fell down crying.

You betrayed me, my anger strangled me.

You asked for forgiveness, I couldn’t give it.

You asked me what you had done, I couldn’t swallow past my tears.

I never want to hear from you

I never want to talk to you

I never want you to hurt those close to me

I never want your manipulating tentacles near me

You never loved me, I gave you my all.

A tiny home

I push and pull the boundaries I scream and yell and stomp my feet but nothing is giving way nothing is moving. 
I listen to the professor go on about topics we have already covered
I listen to a classmate say how much she hates the world
I listen to my friends doubt themselves because society is too unknown
I listen to strangers and they gossip about the local dog missing 
I listen to the winds in the trees; I can't fully understand their language 
Sadness creeps in and I turn to my bones to ground me.
I listen to the earth below my feet and I can hear a whisper
I can hear the water moving below my body
Moving below the soil
The blue veins calling out to my red veins.
The water moving through my body like a secret. 
I step to my left and the voices stop. 

I'm cut off. 
Left alone in this wooded isolation
Listening to doubt and worry and cynicism 
I cover my ears I wasn't made to be cynical
Nobody was made to be cynical
The world is hard enough without hope
So don't crush others people dreams with the harsh reality that is crushing yours. You don't know what they are capable of. 
I am capable of impossible things 
I can and will 
Watch me 

“I remember crying over you and I don’t mean a couple of tears and I’m blue...

....I’m talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon.”

They say that you don’t know love until your heart is broken and obliterated, that without heartbreak as they call it no one would know how valuable real love is.

With you it was different from the start, we weren’t anything yet you were everything to me. My eyes were red and raw by the time I was done trying to convince myself that I didn’t need you. I would have walked to the end of the world for you trying to make you understand that yes you may love me but no one would ever be able to match the love I felt for you, not even you. So in a sense it was over before it began.

Its been a year now, I’ve tried to convince myself that you aren’t and never were worth the pain and the fear and the sadness. That I can love again. I throw myself into relationships only to have fresh pain poured onto me when they say oh its casual nothing serious. Before you I only sought those who truly wanted to be with me, after you I made it my unconscious decision to only be with those who didn’t want me. It would remind me of you in a messed up way.

But truly it never did, you were always kind, never mean. These men were mean, they made it all emotional and then tore away any semblance of trust I built up, they were only after one thing. You, you were different. You had been hurt by heart break, you had felt as though you were never going to live again but you made it through and it made you stronger.

You never intended to hurt me, never wanted to. You loved me in your own way, you told me, ‘Trust me you don’t want to be with me. You don’t want me to be anything but a really good friend, trust me on that will you,’ and with that and a small kiss you left.

I collapsed and cried and screamed. I sat on the floor watched soppy movies and cried for you more. I would lay out on the roof and stare at the bright moon wondering what you were doing now and why you left.

We are friends now, we talk to each other, we laugh and joke. I am very good at showing that I am over you that I don’t love you or care that you get with other girls but honestly it hurts me and every time you dance with another girl or kiss another girl my heart is ripped out anew.

We don’t live near each other anymore, we keep in touch sometimes but I don’t let myself answer your messages quickly or let myself hope that you will reply. I know you are happy and enjoying living your life. And one day soon I can feel it, I will enjoy life to. And sometimes I already do.

Sometimes on dark nights when the moon is bright and shining down on me I let my tears flow silently down my cheeks letting my love for you once again rise to the surface. Briefly letting myself feel the strength of the emotion that I had for you before sinking them slowly down into the depths of my mind.

The Red Dress

 The crimson red dress lies spread out on my white sheets, evidence of a previous misdeed; I tilt my head or maybe it’s a  promise of a misdeed yet to come. I smile to myself as I wring out the final droplets from my hair letting the dark, tangled mess spill out across my pale shoulders.

Rifling through my pants I pull out the plain black pair in order to match my lacy black bra, satisfied with the match I turn towards my bed. 

Ready I stare down at the red dress, it taunts me and shames me, how will I ever be beautiful enough to wear these folds of confidence. I had always wanted a red dress, but looking at it now it made me think that only models, actresses or dancers should be allowed to wear such silky red.

 I turn away from the dress and open my wardrobe, maybe I should wear black, then maybe I can blend into the background and slip away without anyone noticing me. But wasn’t a masquerade about being who you usually conceal? Holding onto the wardrobe doors I gaze back at the red dress imagining my black hair spilling down the back my metallic silver mask contrasting with the bright colour. Would I look like I should be feared or would I look like a small child dressing up in her mothers clothing? I close the cupboard doors impatiently and turn towards the bed not to be shamed by a god damn dress. I was wearing it not the other way round. 

I zip down the dress and shimmy it up twisting my arms through the straps before patting down the rumples and closing the dress back up. I head into the bathroom not letting myself focus on the dress in the mirror and instead focus on my eyes and lips. If I was going to let my concealed person out then I was going to have to show confidence, and well that started with the way I dressed.

Shimmering my eyes up, elongating and darkening my eyelashes and painting my lips blood red perfected my face. Twirling some of my curls up on my head while letting the rest hang down my shoulders made my smile, I rarely did anything to my curls but let them hang, but I had to agree I liked the face in the mirror. 

Fashioning a simple pear necklace around my pale neck completes my face, the chain chasing the white pearl around my increasing pulse. I swallow any apprehension back into the pit of my stomach.

I wiggle my feet into black twisting heels and walk downstairs. My curls twining around my face and framing my red lips, I tie the thin metal mask onto my face and finally turn towards the only full length mirror I have in my flat.  

I gasp.

The person in the mirror can’t be me, she looks beautiful, confident and in control. The dress hugs my curves but isn’t so tight I feel trapped. The slit framed by heavy red waves sits just above my knee. The dress was beautiful, I admired its every fold and crease yet as I twisted this way and that I realised that it wasn’t the dress, but in fact me. The way I smiled, the way I moved, that was all me. The dress accented me but it wasn’t what was beautiful or confident that was all me. 

As I stepped into the ballroom from the dark street I didn’t want to hide in the corner, I wanted to be seen and admired and adored. I may not want to stand out normally but the concealed me definitely liked the attention. The sense of mystery just enhanced my devious side. I hold my head up proud, proud to be a women and proud to be me.