you’re all the fucking same to me now

Tongue like a spike in my own mouth
drawing blood with words
the taste of cooper coins
seep through clenched teeth.
I’m so used to feeling empty that
I’m not sure I was every anything more
She always told me to love with
everything but everything’s never
good enough

I’m always left
with deep wounds left to be stitched
in the comfort of my own solitude
I honour each wound by
their hands by creating my own
so I’m not sure which one was yours
I thought it would be the deepest
but they all look the same to me now

you’re all the fucking same to me now


a love poem for once 

I’m so used to writing out of sadness, that I’m unsure how to write about you. I’ve written about dark places and empty faces. How ex-lovers stripped colour from my world like I was nothing more than a scrapped canvas in their art exhibit. I’ve found difficulties in wording how you’ve slowly brought it back. That with each kiss on my lips placed by yours is filling each blank space in my heart like watercolour, bleeding love into every crack.

When one is so used to finding beauty in darkness, they’re often blinded by the light.

I am not the girl of your dreams 

I have not and never will be the girl of your dreams. There will be days when I will hardly be your girl at all. That’s why I tell you that I’m no good because I want you to know it.

It’s not because I will not love you nor is it because I will leave. It’s because I may hold your heart too tight and crush it without notice or care. Or sometimes it will seem like I was never even there. I have a tendency to burn myself by holding flames that should never have been lit in the first place. 

I have burns in places that are scarred memories of the time I let myself burn where memories had withered, yet I stood until I was nearly ash. 

Please believe me when I say that I will not leave you. That is to say that when I do, it’s not because I did not love you. It’s because I loved you more than myself and did not want you to know me anymore than you do now. 

I am no good. I am afraid to love you as your smile screams to me like gasoline and I’m an untamed flame waiting for a spark. Your heart burns like a candle wick and I’m just looking for a reason to see in the dark. 


I’m not sure what happened,
but somewhere along the line our nothing became something to me.
the worst part about that is 
now every fibre of my being is screaming to run,
to ruin it.
it’s screaming that it’s one-sided.
that while 
my heart is bursting into flames,
yours is trying to pour cold water to douse me with pain.
that I’m preparing myself to run into a brick wall again,
and soon enough I’ll be covered in bruises.
I didn’t want this to be anything,
and the problem is that it isn’t anything.
my heart has tried to plant its roots in your garden
while yours is trying to pick me out like a weed.
and my mind is saying
to stop trying to grow with you because
I’m not a flower you’re willing to feed.
though I’m unsure if my mind is playing tricks again,
and I’m not sure if you’re just a friend.
the worst part?

I don’t want to ask,

because frankly.. I’m scared to be right.


when they said his name, I didn’t think of the way his hand touched mine. for a second I forgot about the words I spit from my mouth when his tried to taste my tongue. no, I thought of when he spoke your name and asked what I saw in you. I remember that night you kept me safe when his hungry eyes saw me as nothing more than a mouse to chase. I may not remember that night, but I’ll never forget that in my darkest hours you were my light. I was the match and you were my flame. now you’re nothing but a burned out wick and I’m smoke in the wind. memories of us have began to fade but I’ll never forget how we burned together.

dear god, we could have set the world on fire.


I now know what it’s like to bite tongues that aren’t my own
Leaving fresh wounds,
Tasting their blood
Is better than my own
I clung to her clothes yet when she came there’d never be anyone home
I knew what it was like,
Maybe that’s why
I thought I deserved to feel what they did
To feel chased with no intention of slowing down
The feeling of freedom,
While passing my hand through her hair
I was never truly there
But it was nice to feel wanted without wanting
I let him get close, kept him near
In case I stumbled too far I wanted someone to lend an ear
This time it was me who didn’t say hi,
I didn’t say bye either
I just watched as she tried to reach through my barriers
This was something I watched you do and I was envious of the inaccessibility
Now I’m inaccessible
I’m not sure if this is what I wanted
But in the end, it’s better than being forgotten

promises mean nothing

We were so excited to spend fall together. You were going to play me songs on your guitar aside bonfires in your backyard, while I sit curled up beside you in your hoodie.

You promised me we’d have a candlelit bath and drink cheap wine, because you know how much I loved both.

We were supposed to spend Christmas together and watch movies, those stupid ones that everyone watches around the holidays. I do it every year, and you wanted to make me smile.

None of those actually happened. You even told me you’d spend my birthday with me.. but when the time came you were nowhere to be found.

Its almost summer now.
And now you’re not even around.

Isn’t it funny how things work out?


She was rose petals, and frilly skirts. Blonde hair and curls, always perfectly placed. She’d drink bubbly teas and ask strangers what their names were. I remember how bright the days were then, always seemed more vibrant than the past. Though these days never did quite seem to last.

She’d fade to this mellow gal, wearing overalls and had buttercups in her hair. Sometimes it was blue, others red, I think at one point it was even hot pink? She changed it so often I’ve lost track. Always smelt of fresh leaves and tea tree oil. I think she was forgetting to take care of herself. You could see the glossiness in her eyes, something wasn’t right but you couldn’t pinpoint just what. She’d hide it well through this ‘healthy’ thing she decided to take up. You know, green tea and yoga on fresh cut grass in the summer breeze. A charade that she truly believed.

Slowly, she’d forget. At first it was the occasional ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’, but tomorrow never quite came because each day would be the same. She switched her high waisted skirts and crop top tees for band shirts and ripped jeans. Her colourful hair was outgrown roots, tied up in messy buns. Not quite so bright, but nevertheless fun. But then.. came the drinking.

One night turned into two. And two turned into a week binge, having to be carried home by the club bouncer because she couldn’t do it on her own. She started asking strangers what their names were again, but this time for different reasons. She seemed to be missing something, herself maybe. That glossiness in her eyes was now a vacant grey and those grown out colours were switched to jet black hair, pierced her nose but swore she was okay. Tea was now whiskey at the bar where you could find the local punk bands play. Doing cocaine in bathrooms with boys she just met who she swears she was friends with. She was fun in a different kind of way. She was dangerous, a hollow shell trying to fill the void by any means possible.

The void slowly began to grow. She stopped going out to drink, but instead did it alone. Drank in dark rooms and wrote about how she used to be. It wasn’t too long ago but it’s hard to think that that was her. Instead now memories haunt her of her dark past and she realized that each part of her was trying to run away. And each time the memory of their hands on her, she would split into the next girl. Each time draining her to the point where she’d forget who she was before it began. And now she’s realized she’s ran all she can.

So she sits there, mind muddled between each of the girls she’s created and the nothingness that’s been slowly eating away at her mind. She doesn’t remember how she got here.

And I can’t believe that she’s me.