Here’s a piece just for you….

At the mere mention of vomit I seize
can’t bear the thought, cripples me into anxiety attack mode
Fight or flight, flight, FLIGHT I want to run
Blackout, switch off, uncontrollable unwanted crying
my entirety shaking, words can’t permeate the stress
But you make me feel sick
sick with excitement
nervous you might change tracks and listen to someone else’s EP
Roughly lift my vinyl off the record player, throw it at the wall and replace it tenderly
delicately with that of sweeter sound

You don’t add an ounce of weight to my depression’s grossly obese form
in fact you convince it to exercise once in a while
choose a salad over another bucket of gravy covered fries

I can’t help but think we could be the greatest
and maybe we can because 

my heart was skipping around in a field full of rotting carcasses and
skeletal trees, a murder of crows flew overhead
blocking out the sun like a storm cloud but I knew rain wouldn’t relieve the cracked soil
or my chapped lips
The air was thick with the stench of death and
small bugs were hard not to swallow
When some refuge sent me a letter
with a map and directions, a little heart was scribbled in the corner

I saw a cottage covered in roses, it was painted pastel blue
The door swung open at my approach
I was ushered in by the scent of Nag Champa and freshly brewed herbal tea
it felt safe inside these walls
they weren’t tall or looming
but they were terribly impressive
Languages by the truckload, paintings, scriptures, more and more
they’re my favourite flower

So many books, too many titles
One had all your initials on its spine but the back cover was missing
all it’s pages had been stitched in periodically
different papers and sizes all compiled as to read so far….
I was fighting my curiosity to finger through the pages
but I got this feeling you didn’t want me to read it all just yet
like you wanted to read it out loud to me when the time was right

I found a thin paperback marked with my name
unlike most the of the books but alike to yours
alike to others marked mother, father, brother, first heartbreak, fears
names I didn’t recognise and heritage
mine had been titled by hand
The calligraphy was flawless, gilt and manually embossed
the weight didn’t match its width
Again I fought the urge to sup at its contents
Again I won the battle

Heard the scratch of needle on record followed by pure sound
I began to sway and quickly gave in to graceful motion
dancing with emotion right to my fingertips
moving feet in time and hips revolving, I spun

felt a hand on my waist, whisper in my hair and
I turned but I found myself alone
knew you were there but you were so far away

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