my love

August 2021 what has heaven got that you couldn’t give me in a moment alone together in july with the windows open and the sun taking over the sky and nothing but a stream of thoughts floating in my mind like fresh water that can never find the opening at my mouth,  the problem is you’re close to me but not close enough this silence is loud enough for me to come to my own conclusions because you’re here but you’re not here and i’m looking at you but you’re not seeing me and how in my eyes you are golden and in yours im just plain yellow, i am aware i am catastrophically aware of myself and how this will end and how ill say sorry like a little girl i’m sorry let me be better next time if you’ll give me a next time but now it’s august and i’m scared there will never be a next time and now autumns here to break the spell of summer and i’m scared you’ll be gone with it like a leaf beneath my feet and i’ll carry you with me on my boots until the winter but god right now it’s still warm ...

  19/1/2023 my love for you is liquid in an overflowing glass that i can’t stop filling yet you won’t drink from it you tell me you’re not thirsty enough you’re not sure what you want to drink  maybe my love isn’t for you,  i beg you to drink what’s in the glass  it’s spilling  it’s in constant supply  it flows from my fingers and my tongue  i tell you you’ll never be thirsty again  if you drink from my glass, you bring it to your lips  ‘someone else may be thirstier’ you tell me  ‘someone who knows what they want to drink’ it may only overflow for you, i say  my love won’t spill for everyone creating pools in this way,  what’s wrong with what’s in my glass  that you can’t drink it  ‘nothing’ you say  ‘there’s nothing wrong with it, but you still can’t make me drink’  i’m drowning  you can’t hear me scream  you’re still thinking about it  toying with the idea  you dip a finger remembering...

1/11/2022   every evening in the kitchen i watch you cutting onions with tired eyes and heavy arms fresh from work cutting onions without being asked because they make my eyes water and i watch you so intently with such severity trying to communicate telepathically that i would do absolutely anything for you without question and without complaint if it meant a lifetime of watching you cutting onions in the kitchen after we’ve both finished work and arrived home in the dark to make dinner together for the hundredth time shoulder to shoulder with the big light off and the little lights on to watch the same shows cross-legged on the floor and again i look at you with full belly and warm heart my eyes finding the words my mouth can’t to say thank you for cutting the onions when you got home from work even though your arms are tired and eyes heavy even though i didn’t ask you to because you know they make my eyes water and i would do anything for you without complaint without question i...

  sitting across from you   at the coffee shop, at the restaurant  on the sofa on the bed a thousand things that could be said  or is there  does there need to be? you’re okay with silence  you float in it happily  whilst i drown, silently i need swimming lessons please teach me we’re here, but not really here, you’re somewhere else entirely  and i’m changing the colour of the sky  ignoring the predicted forecast even if it’s been right before  it’s blue if i say it’s blue you’re looking at me  but you’re not seeing me  if you did you’d see the sunrise  reflecting in my eyes  your face has a golden glow  that i put there every morning  which exists until they close heaven has nothing you couldn’t give me even if you won’t  i pretend i can’t hear the rain on the window  if i think loud enough  your heart will hear me  and you’ll speak  something reassuring  something to make me l...

 kafka captured love when he wrote how he wanted to hide his face in his lover until the world could no longer see them and they were one i would be content to disappear  from this world entirely because in the nape of your neck i have discovered a new one

 sometimes god calls me from a payphone he tells me there aren't enough trees he drops peaches and nectarines at my feet that aren't ripe enough to eat and tells me to wait sometimes his voice echoes through the underground sticking to the tracks telling me not now, not yet i see his face on strangers i've never met and friends i hardly recognise he reminds me about the trees there aren't enough i ask a question that he is still answering in prophetic dreams and the taste of the nectarines  sometimes god is in the pomegranate seeds that my lover shares with me lips bloody, unbruised he wipes my mouth clean before she kisses me he makes no apologies but i still forgive and plant the trees it'll be a while before i see them bloom maybe i never will but i plant them still

if we were put here to experience, to share fruit and look at the moon, to skim pebbles across open water and hope that summer is coming soon, you'll wish for snow every year just to complain that it's made your fingers far too cold again and ruined your day but when it's gone you'll miss it so enjoy it whilst you can because spring leaves no prisoners when she decides she wants to bloom and the cold will be gone just that little bit too soon, everything you can see and touch and taste was especially made for you to know this world personally on a first name basis to see it's many faces and kiss them all, impulsively, remember to look at paintings more than once until you notice something new maybe a new favourite colour or the beautiful eyes of another waiting to be noticed by you all those years later, time is a worthless indicator when connections can be formed through paint and ink for those who used to write and smile and think  just like us, right now, look in...