;

I am utterly fearless, forgiven to the point of worship.

Nothing ever felt so good as your accelerating breaths down my neck, re-writing the notches of your spine in my own hand, this body is mine.

We made bonds out of curls of smoke and strings of guitar chords, and breaking that is like losing the will to live, but this b-movie has an epilogue and I’d love to believe you are in it.

You are my ten thousand leagues under the sea,

and everytime the monster wakes I crave falling for him all over again.

Risking my emotional stability for you is just plain instinct.

Downfall.

After the rain comes absolution, a breather. Wherever you are, I still feel like I'm lying next to you. We're kissing under the black sky, as the world falls down around us. There was never any need to fix it. Let it run away with itself, down the drain, to the dogs. We can play catch in the yard, you can fight your demons from the comfort of the sofa, while I make jam in the kitchen. There's associations, yes. But there's always interior decoration. This love is fucking visceral.

Dislocated.

Suddenly it's a game and we don't know when it ends. You're out in the barn, swinging from the rafters, and I shout for you to come inside and stop acting like a child, but it starts to rain and the rain gets heavier until I can't even see you, and you shout that it's too late and I can't help and maybe I should find another girl to tease and twist and eventually get bored of.

Aerial.

I'm the copper-headed creature, creeping around the corners of your house. You finish school, hiding bitemarks, little wounds of which you think maybe you're secretly proud. Fingers cross the piano, singing out "This is real love, this is real". Hospital beeps, light pools on the floor after the mian lights swtich off. I'm watching you dreaming, breaths rise inside you, ideas swell and dissipate. The monsters are hungry. Did you forget where this goes ?
I'm creeping low to the floor, trying not to wake you. In the early hours I'm out in the fields, chasing banks of fog across the damp grass. Wings skim overhead, starting out early. I can picture you peering out of the curtains at the fresh light, in your night clothes, wondering what I'm doing so early. I want you to wonder. I want you to realise where we're headed.
Towards summer and winter and an empty in-between, moorland calling, north-wind blowing, trees sighing, clouds covering. There is no future, there is only my love dying in tomorrows cold snow or warm rain and you packing thick jumpers for your parents house in the north.
I wanted this, I did, honestly.
I'm copper clothed, the fox scratching his claws. Are you awake ? Are you screaming ? Are we even alive at all ?

* * *

The night hangs under trees, mist lies in banks in the fields on the edge of town, sunrise means you squinting from the train window. I face forward, you face backward. I struggle with the layers to this. We can sleep the day away, curtains drawn, the matress on the floor, the way you like.
Outside the tress will be escaping the winter as buds struggle upward and leaves unfurl. It will feel as though we've been away for so long. I guess home isn't really home anymore.

* * *

The wolves are playing in the garden, the local kids are singing out on the fields, you're snoring quietly and I'm fucking terrified..

Into The Woods.

The woods are like drowning, without dying.
Like falling asleep but knowing you are falling asleep.
Like listening to the amplified sound of a harps echo.

I'm excited and yet a little unsettled at the idea I have for this final project..

Stepping on your toes.

And you put on all your heaviest clothes,
and I'd be the river you're drowning in,
as old scars twist deep in the heart of me.

This my excavation.

I forgot the page I was on and now all the lines blur into one.
Forgive me. Please.
I'm a thought in a sea of lives and lovers.
While kisses bring me back to life, you send me under the waves.