irreparablyfrayed

[irreparablyfrayed]

It is not unusual for me to struggle getting to sleep

but the last couple of nights I have been plagued by one main reason.

This heat that finds its way into my room

but will not follow the path I have laid out for its exit.

I flip the pillow but the warmth gets to the cold side before my cheek can.

I am already stripped bare, uncovered in a room so white the walls glow

yet still I cannot escape this sweat.

I search sheets, duvet, pillowcase

but unbury no solution in the layers of my bed.

I do not know why this surprises me.

When I have found myself passing through beds like a tornado,

desperately seeking answers but always leaving empty.

Perhaps this is why I end up on my windowsill,

legs dangling over the ledge, feeling for some kind of breeze.

They hang there disappointed.

Used to the cool embrace of raindrops in this position

from all the nights I’d swap sleep for storms.

Watching the lightning carve up the sky, charting its territory, mapping its dominion

while the thunder rolled its way around, surrounding with every rumble

and me, caught in the centre of it.

I watch the sky, its lightness mocking me

with the announcement of morning

and I wish to see a storm dancing its path across the horizon.

To see the world tearing itself apart because I am too afraid to do it to myself.

Too terrified to reach inside and acknowledge the guilt

of not feeling any guilt for what I have done.

This heatwave the only thing making my palms sweat,

my conscience as clear as this sky

even when my soul holds hurricanes.

And I cannot sleep because I am innocent there too.

I see but can feel no wrong in the acts I will not speak of

and the heavens, as my judge, have pardoned me.

I walk spring fields with light heels.

Grass making way for my bare feet,

daisies finding solace in my shadow;

the Earth kisses me with forgiveness

and I have no sins to share.

It is not unusual for me to struggle getting to sleep

but I wish I could say just once was because I am sorry.

#indie #hipster #love #kiss #quote #relationships #poem #poetry #writing #poets on tumblr #writing on tumblr #poet #spoken word #words

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Mamihlapinatapei

Mamihlapinatapei is listed in the Guinness book of records as the most succinct word but every image I have to define it with is hazy. I search for you in it but you stay always just out of reach, too high on the diacritic mark of the ‘i’s for my fingertips to grasp you. I catch glimpses of you in the counters of the letters but each time I reach the middle of the curves you have disappeared again, even the breeze you leave in your wake close to stilling.

All the moments I have are stored somewhere just out of my peripheral vision no matter how far I manage to turn my head. And when I call them to my mind’s eye instead dust mites float between me and the illusion of you distorting what I thought you were, as you start to increase the distance between you and I. I don’t know how the Yaghan language managed to explain the translucent nature of our interactions so perfectly that it speaks more clearly to me than those shared moments of eye contact.

But it only serves to validate my insanity of always chasing the sound of you, a melody I can only hear as if it’s down a corridor, never getting louder or quieter always just enough out of my hearing I have to strain to make it out but never quiet enough that I could overlook it completely.

I find my foot tapping to no music and know instinctively it has picked up on your rhythms somewhere far away, hidden by locked doors or the shimmering of a waterfall, the deceptively narrow space to cross disguising the power and force behind it that I could never overcome.

It is reassuring then, that I don’t try. That I am content to see you only ever through butterflies’ wings, to know only the kaleidoscope you. Whatever pieces of your mosaic that you give to me I know I could never rearrange enough to get somewhere close to a full image.

I do not want more than this, I couldn’t handle it, and the implications it would carry are far from my truth. I just wish that our encounters didn’t come with so many layers of concealment that my memory can’t even cut through to remember the brief shadow plays we manage to coax out before the light burns itself out completely.

#word #spilled ink #writing #writer #write #words #linguistic #linguistics #untranslateable words #translate #Mamihlapinatapei #yaghan #love #cheat #illicit #affair #hidden #lust #relationship #secret #sad #hipster #indie

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Offbeat

We used to waltz in your kitchen to music only we could hear but now we only dance around the truth. I’d wear your clothes like a second skin  but lately they’re too loose to keep me warm, I think you stretched them to make room for her but she does not belong in this routine. We had a reality just the two of us shared in 

until I heard your longing for her in the songs you play as we eat dinner, until I saw your invitations to her that I stopped receiving some time ago.

I spent so long trying to be the love you’d just let go I didn’t notice you’d already started to find another. I am tired of watching out to find your hand in someone else’s, your eyes locked onto those of another. I shouldn’t have to still be fighting to keep you around. A thousand “I love you”s and a million favours from you could never make up for the betrayal you still think I haven’t discovered. I do not wish to be her - I couldn’t handle the guilt of creating this pain, and I do not wish to hurt you the same. I still only want to protect you. I just wish I was better at choosing who to trust, instead of offering the best parts of me with people who leave them to decay. For now I’ll have to preoccupy myself with rebuilding, to make myself who I used to be, before you used my love as a stepping stone  to reach somewhere good enough to stay.

[irreparablyfrayed]

There are sunsets you want to keep forever. Ones you’ll see a thousand photos of on Instagram, the same sun, the same sky. Just hidden by a variety of filters. They are not necessarily characterised by anything in particular, They can be the muted, pastel kind or the ones that burn through retinas. But no matter where on the scale they fall they somehow manage to attract the same people. I’ve spent my life chasing these sunsets. Wanting to be part of the crowd, wanting to share in the feeling, the passion, the love. But today I found another kind. It wasn’t particularly subtle, the blues and pinks were bold enough to be seen. I just felt differently towards it. It wasn’t to be shared with other people. And it wasn’t something to keep. It was good, it was beautiful while it lasted. But that was all. To prolong its existence would have ruined it. All I could do was stand and watch the sun burn up the sky, until it slowly faded away.

[irreparablyfrayed]

I want to swim in the ocean. Want the waves to crash hard on my broken body, Salt stinging my wounds, landing on my tongue. White like the communion wafer. Each thunderous wave beating the evil from my body, my whispers swallowed up by the water that floods my lungs. I want all the darkness inside me to float out until I am light enough for the current to carry me. I am too tired to wander by myself on a journey without a destination. Take me down. Swallow me whole. Set me free.

#writer #writing #writers on tumblr #writing on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poetry on tumblr #poets on tumblr

[irreparablyfrayed]

MY SHEETS DON’T SMELL LIKE YOU ANYMORE BUT EVERY TIME I GET INTO THEM I SWEAR I CAN STILL FEEL YOU LYING NEXT TO ME AND THERE’S THIS BUZZING IN MY HEAD THAT ONLY STOPS WHEN I IMAGINE JUST HOW LOUD YOUR HEART WAS BEATING AND EVERYTHING IN THIS GODDAMNED WORLD IS SO UGLY APART FROM THE IMAGES OF YOU THAT FILL MY HEAD EVERY TIME I CLOSE MY EYES.

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Smudged Distinctions

I live my life compartmentalising. Anyone I meet is kept isolated from anybody else that I know, my food has its own section on my dinner plate, and anything I feel is kept solely in that moment. I live in perpetual fear of one part of me bleeding into another, and something happening that is out of my control. The biggest distinction I have made, that has managed to last the longest, is the huge ravine that divides sex from love. Love doesn’t come easily to me anyway,  the majority of people I have said ‘I love you’ to were led on by a lie. But, for the few that managed to draw drops of love out of me, our sex was always kept as something very seperate. The bedroom was a place for struggle, filth and an animalistic desire that was so far removed from any definition of love. But, last weekend, I made love for the first time. I looked into eyes whose irises were projecting a care that was echoed from mine, fingers interlocked as gently as when we’re walking down the street and I was filled with a love that forced itself out of my mouth and into his ears. I had never made love. Even gentler sex with kinder people was deficient of it. Most likely through my own subconscious doing, out of some brand of fear, but for some reason, sex to me was always fucking. For the first time the emotions that I keep locked up had managed to escape, running through my body to enter my veins leak into my pores, slip under the doors of rational thought. And I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the somewhat painful sensation caused by this ferocity of feeling. Maybe it means nothing, it’s just a difference in language that is used to describe the same act. This time, to an outside viewer would appear no different, no sudden change in rhythm or position, but it felt like a first time. There was a tenderness that made me want to cry, a warmth that pulled me under, and a love, oh god, a love so deep I thought I was drowning.

#mine #writing #writer #poet #poetry #poem #love #sex #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poetry on tumblr #writing on tumblr #couple #change #romance

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What I Mean

I like the way you throw your head back a little when you laugh; your whole body going into the release of this one happy noise, its creation greater than a stationary sound. I like the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, Like your mouth is not enough, your skin just has to show it’s own creases. And what I mean is I like it when you’re happy And I like it even more when that happiness paints itself all over your face and causes you to lean in and kiss me in such a way that your lips part mine into a smile too, pulling me into your blissful state.

I like the way your hand can find mine at any given moment And that when they meet they fit together like two old friends. A happy medium that allows for grasping as easily as it does breathing space. I like the fact when your hand curls round my leg it does not feel like shackles, You hold me without keeping me. And what I mean is I like that I get the choice to leave, as reluctant as I am to ever take it. You can clutch me so tightly I believe we will meld together, safe in the knowledge any blending would not be irreparable. I like the way you never run out of things to say, you always have some wisdom to impart regardless of circumstance. I like the way you always have a response to my ideas, hitting back like we’re in a tennis match and I couldn’t imagine a more worthy opponent. And what I mean is I don’t get scared of silence when I am with you, I know your ability to replenish conversation if it is ever in need of words. And your way of creating a kind of soundlessness that does not require filling.

I like the way your eyes meet mine. Across a crowded room or when there are millimetres between us, and they instantly close whatever kind of distance there might be. I like to wake up to them, the sleepy half-closed version. It is softer than the night time kind, that's a deeper kind of sleep, intense, intimidating. But they come alive in the afternoon and stay that way until early morning, your eyelids closing with the sunset. And what I mean is sometimes I wish our eyes could speak for us and you could look into mine and feel exactly how I feel for you.

And what I mean is that I want you to be happy forever, to always find a way to smile even when everything is going wrong. And what I mean is that I have never felt as safe as when your hand curls round mine. And what I mean is that your voice is the only lullaby to make me feel safe enough to sleep. And what I mean is that I am never capable of tearing myself away from your eyes when I'm looking into them. And what I mean is ‘I love you’.

#imo the ending doesnt work #which kinda sucks because that was my entire idea #anyway #poem #poetry #writire #writer #spilled ink #writing

[irreparablyfrayed]

I can’t do this because I have been her. I filled a book with reasons why I loved somebody and they took the book, along with my heart and discarded both. I have been the one who writes unanswered letters filled with unanswered questions and I know how it feels to wish you could hear at least some kind of response. I have been second best and slowly slipped down the list until I felt like the last option and I will not facilitate that same fall happening to someone else. I know I entered your life somewhere in the middle of something like a mess but even without knowing the full story, I already feel like the character I am playing is somebody I cannot be. I am much better suited to chorus part than leading lady and I wish when you cast this act you hadn’t chosen for me and her to swap roles. I imagine it would be much easier on you too. I have no time to listen to words that sound a bit like ones you used to whisper in her ear. It isn’t fair on either of us. I feel like I need to remind you of two things: 1. We are different people. Yes, you might have a type but I have seen the way she smiles and it holds a happiness I cannot tap into. You have had more time to make memories with her, that is the only reason the two of you have more bad ones than you and I. 2. We are both people. I walk past her and see the hurt on her face and it gifts me a guilt that I cannot live with. I want to go to her now and apologise for all of the hurt that she has felt.

I can’t deny this feeling that she is far more worthy of your affections so I am saving face now instead of entering a battle I could never win. I cannot be a witness to her pain any longer.

[irreparablyfrayed]

Something Like a Goodbye

We never really said hello. Skipped the exposition and went straight into the main action so I guess it’s weird that we’d need a farewell at all. Maybe I just want to explain why I have decided to close the curtains. Part of me knows that it will allow you to find her again, bring her out from the green room you’ve kept her in ever since banishing her from even seeing you in the shadows of backstage. That part also knows that it would be the right thing to do. If it wasn’t for me pushing then you wouldn’t have been tempted away and I am tired of holding people captive when they wish they could be somewhere else. I refuse to play the villain anymore, In fact, I think I’m quitting theatre. I am tired of the choreography instructing me to flit from one person to the next. I am sick of the lighting choosing how I am seen on a whim. And I am through with speaking lines that go straight from the page to my mouth with no time for them to travel through my heart or my mind. Nobody likes an ending but that’s why this is okay. Because nothing is ending for you. I was an interval between acts and she will be waiting for you again once the audience have returned to their seats. This is the way it should play out and any issues I have with it must be ignored, because it is me who has written this part of the script.

#writing #writersontumblr #writingsontumblr #writingontumblr #writers on tumblr #writing on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poetry on tumblr #poems on tumblr

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Things I Consider After You’ve Told Me You Love Me (a sequel)

1. The way your hair curls on your head, arcing into a wave only to make a (semi) perfect circle as it comes back to kiss your scalp. It is the closest thing to a constant that I have seen in you so far.  2. I like that. The parts of you that shift like kaleidoscope images come back together to create something that is no less beautiful than before. Your changing moods are easy to accept when your passions are impossible to budge. The amount we talk differs from day to day but the constant that, when we can, we do talk remains like the certainty that something wonderful will await me when I look through the eyepiece. 3. Your lips tire me out but I will never tire of them. They soothe with their steady tide, washing over my forehead, my cheeks, easing my own open with strawberry-sweet gentleness. But they know how to awake, to heighten every sense until I reach a state of numbness to anything but your touch. 4. I will never find the right song to sum up how I feel about you, though I’ve made a playlist to try. I listen to it whenever I can, but it just makes me wish you were there to listen with me. Nothing can recreate how it feels to be with you. 5. I can feel as I’m writing that this will be too much. Please understand that I have been trying to write about you for more than 15 drafts now, and the shame of their discarding has gifted me some kind of hyperbole. 6. I also feel that it is not enough. But what could there be that is more than the truth? 7. Why were you not scared? Why are you not afraid to love me? Haven’t I proven the destruction I cause? The pain I inflict on others? Do I not terrify? I scare myself. I don’t think I’d love me. It wouldn’t be worth it. 8. I am not scared of you. I know I should be but every defence that usually stands tall around me has fallen down. You have seduced all of my guards, possessed the perfect combination to sedate them all at once. And although something in my mind is begging me to still feel afraid, my heart beats loudly enough to drown it out.  9. When you said “I love you”, I wanted to run away. But please don’t take this as a bad sign. No, really. I mean it. Because I’m still here. My feet stayed rooted to unstable ground and I made the decision to follow it down should it ever decide to fall through. 10,  I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for somebody before. I want to run and thank your mother for ever creating you, so you could become the most impossible person I know. I want to thank you for existing. And for existing close enough to me that I could share in you. 11. I love you. And it makes an odd number on this list because it’s just as jarring to me now as it was when I first said it. As soon as it was released into the air, I watched it light up the sky like starlight, I felt some kind of bounds release from my heart that I never knew were there. I felt a freedom unlike anything I could describe and it quickly became the only thing I wanted to say. I wanted to use it like punctuation, tell everyone constantly because it’s such a perfect feeling that I don’t want to let it go. 12. I had to bring this list back to an even number, not just for peace of mind but because love feels right. I love you, I love you, I love you.

#me #mine #writing #writer #poem #prose #spoken word #poetry #poet #poets on tumblr #poetsontumblr #poemsontumblr #poems on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writersontumblr #spilled ink #love #relationship #couple #cute #this was terrifying honestly

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Ashes and Dust

I cannot let this old lust stake its claim on me again. I need to lock the door and draw the curtains, hide myself away and ignore the knocking that’s threatening to make the entire foundations crumble. It has taken me too long to build up this shelter to let you blow it down like the big bad wolf. But your teeth catch the light as you pass the windows, reminding me of a pain so familiar and, my god, am I desperate for some stability in my life. Your claws cast shadows that reach out for me, dark shapes passing over my skin and I am hypnotised by how easy it would be to let the darkness fill me again. I have missed the certainty of your kiss - claiming me as soon as you walk in the door. You pressed into me and you made me yours, yours, yours. I was filled with a fire that replaced the ice in my bones and something that I could pretend I believed was love. You told me I am and always will be yours. And parts of me are longing, desperate to jump at your call. I have been so conditioned to answer to your nicknames, your hands, your voice, that the fight is getting hard. I do not miss your hand in mine - it was never there long enough. I do not miss your sweet nothings - all I remember was sour; poison whispered in my ear, tar spat at me, guilt plaguing my eardrums. But I miss bending to your palm, the ease of mindlessness as I lay back, head off the bed, mouth open and forgot myself.  I was not allowed to move so I disappeared from my body. And my absence pleased you, I miss the knowledge of having pleasured someone. I had it for a while, but it was taken away again.  And it left a hole you have offered to fill. I do not feel like I own my own sexuality. It was yours. And although I am slowly trying to ease parts of it from the cracks between your fingers, your grip is too tight for me to handle alone. I know I could make things easier if I left the blog we share so I stop getting notifications every time you reblog some violent scene that looks less like sex and more like torture. That way at least, I wouldn’t be reminded of the things you tried to teach me to enjoy. I wish you never told me you still fuck yourself to my photos. Faceless obscenities because that’s what you wanted from me. I never got to feel pretty. All you wanted was disgusting, for me to be a mess. To see the destruction you could cause. The twisted result of pain and horror. I know my friends would hate me. They’d be right. They stuck with me through three and a half years of me being trapped on a roundabout that wouldn’t slow enough to let me leave properly. The most I’d ever managed was one foot on the ground and that still was not enough for me to leave. So every time I walk past, I miss the familiarity of knowing what to do. I have grown so accustomed to being yours. But I know as soon as I place one toe on the roundabout it will spin round too fast for me to leave again and I can not allow that to happen. Because the last time I let you stifle my existence, I looked up at you (a first hint of disobedience) and I saw his face in place of yours. And I cried once you had gone. Not just from pain and emptiness this time, but from the realisation stuck in my chest like a dagger that maybe I could have better than a deathlike life.  I’d tell you not to give me a choice, because I’ve never been any good at making decisions. But the majority of me agrees, for once strongly enough to let me voice it, and I cannot keep choosing you. You should not even be an option. You should be on the other side by now. Not sticking around like a ghost to haunt me with fingers that chill and words that try to force a love that never existed. Leave me be. This old lust is overshadowed now. I am no longer a welcome mat to bear the marks of your shoes. There is nothing for you here.

#tw; abuse #kind of #tw; rape #alluded to #me #mine #writing #writer #poem #poetrey #writersontumblr #writers on tumblr #writings on tumblr #writingsontumblr #writingontumblr #writing on tumblr #poetsontumblr #poets on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poemsontumblr #love #lust #sex #pain #moving on #break up #try #positive #hopeful

[irreparablyfrayed]

I don’t even expect much anymore and anyway it’s not as if I was waiting for you to come and make it all okay.

Counting Crows (via lovelikeyouvealwaysbeenlonely)

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On Not Getting Attached

You have been uprooted too many times to ever properly settle and I cannot ignore these signs when I have seen the recurring patterns in my own behaviour; one foot pointing towards while the other is readying itself to turn and run. It’s better that I know now, how easily you have stolen the breath of others - keeping it in jars like fireflies. Beauty immortalised for your own amusement. It has warned me. I keep my mouth closed when kissing lest you take my breaths for yourself. I watch the words that fall from my mouth, ensuring nothing escapes that holds any worth. I will bite my tongue sending only the banal your way. I will not lose myself to you. You have constellations marked out on your back but I know I will find no north star there to guide me. Your presence will last as long as that of the night sky and I am readying myself for your imminent disappearance. When we look at the stars all we see is their echo. They are already dead, leaving only their ghost for us to witness. You are the same. Your physical body there for me to see and learn and touch but I recognise that is the most that is available to me. I feel prepared now. I will rest my hand in yours without clutching back, my arms will not meet around your waist because that way we can both escape more easily. I will share my thoughts with you but keep my feelings. I will give you lyrics but no melody, share smiles but not laughter. I will stay as far away from you as I can bear. But it’s alright. It won’t keep me from admiring the stars.

#why am i too line break happy #this is a rough draft please #mine #writing #writersontumblr #writingontumblr #love #indie #hipster #poem #poetry #poet #poemsontumblr #poetryontumblr #poetsontumblr #poetry on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr

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Painting By Numbers

1. It took a while for us to wander far enough away from the city to reach sky clear enough to see the stars. But as soon as our hands touched, I felt the stardust start to spark between us. 2. The supernovas were still there the next day, lighting up moments that would have otherwise plunged me back into my darkness. 3. You were still there, too. 4. Nothing more than clasped hands and brushing lips, but you didn’t ask for more. I doubted myself - thought maybe I’d been blinded by the light you emanate.  5. But a few days later I saw you again and the feeling of your arms around me would have been impossible to create within an imagination. 6. You touched my bare skin, cold hands stealing my warmth. Slowly we settled on a temperature we could both handle. 7. You checked I was okay with your hand on my back and I wanted to cry. I wanted to parade this moment in front of him; to inject it into his cerebrum, tattoo it onto his eyelids so it becomes the only thing he can see whenever his eyes close. 8. I hugged you instead. Allowing you to dissolve any disbelief I had. You took my fear and replaced it with care. You did not hold me like I was breakable, an object. Instead you clutched me back, tight. Not afraid, just protective. 9. I was trapped for so long on a carousel others controlled - spinning from one mistake to the next. Anytime I tried to escape I would find myself disorientated, stumbling back towards the harshness of the only light I’d ever known. 10. One by one the horses had begun to fall, each one closer to trapping me. I had been trying to get away, but branches were blocking my way and wearing me down. All I was certain of was that the comfort of the familiar would be there if I turned back. 11. I was mid turn when I saw you. So close to giving in, being tempted back into the lion’s den. But for once I was more scared of their snapping jaws than I was of taking your hand, 12. I’m taking baby steps - so I’m sorry it’s taking so long for us to get anywhere. I just hope you don’t get tired of waiting for me to catch up. 13. It’s taken longer than it should have done for me to wander far enough away to find you. I was scared it would all be wilderness, but with my hand in yours I think I’m no longer afraid.

#poem #poetry #poet #wriiting #writing #writersontumblr #writingsontumblr #prose #slam poetry #spoken word #spoken word poetry #numbers #love #stars.sky #indie #hipster #hand #hands #hand holding #couple #relatioship #couples #relationship #boyfriend #girlfriend #cute #kiss #carousel #sex #romance

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Kissing you is moonlight. It is desire before lust -instead of- It is fingertips dancing over skin like feathers. It is more breath than lips skimming down my neck. It is a warmth, not a heat. It is enough to keep out the cold, enough to find comfort in. It is the flickering flames of bonfire night, before the fireworks take over. It is the moment before, the pause to catch your breath, the space to rest. The moment before the next thing, the big thing, but it is enough. It is enough to remain in, no rush to get to the next part, perfectly content to stay. It is leaning in without thinking and giggling as we pull apart. It is asking if I’m okay without knowing how much I need  that checked. It is lamplight and softness and quiet streets where we can be alone. It is an ocean of stillness with slow running currents that have no desire to move us. It is floating,  above everything but you.

#me #mine #writing #writingontumblr #writing on tumblr #writer #writers #writersontumblr #writingsontumblr #poem #poetry #poet #poetsontumblr #poiets on tumblr #poetryontumblr #poetry on tumblr #poemsontumblr #poems on tumblr #love #boyfriend #girlfriend #relationship #relationships #hipster #indie #spilled ink #quote #romance #kiss #kissing

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I posted this to the wrong blog, please love it anyway

When your future husband decides he doesn't want to be your present anything

 1. You will feel nothing. You will sit staring out at a world that doesn’t belong to you anymore. You will look at blank walls and feel alone, you will not hear the birdsong, will not feel the magic of the stars or see the beauty in the blossom on the trees. 2. You will feel everything. You will feel like you are losing everything you could ever need because the only way you could ever have a future is with the strength of his hand in yours and his body by your side on the journey there, You will feel your heart breaking. It will be slow at first, small fragments splintering off, building to a crescendo. The crack of this will make you feel like you are being torn apart. 3. You will grow to realise that this louder, bigger break will not be the irreparable part, You will grab hold of these two pieces and force them together with the help of your friends, pushing either side to make them meet in the middle. This will help. For a while. It is the smaller parts, the chips that have splintered off, that you will never recover. They will find their way into your lungs and make it hard for you to breathe whenever something reminds you of him. They will embed themselves in your mind to form links that mean you can’t stop fucking thinking about him. They will never go back to join your heart. It will always be incomplete. 4. You will think about your first meeting. The way the light brought out the colours in his hair and the flecks of gold in his eyes. You will think about the softness in the air between you as your eyes find each other for the first time. You will think about his lips and the way they trembled as they pushed his breath out, showing you that he felt it too. 5. You will think about the last time you saw each other. You will try to work out why it was the last time. You remember better sex, not for technique but for intimacy. You remember him instantly curling round to hug you when he finished. You can’t shake the feeling of his arms holding you, safe. You will wonder if he knew that the last time you saw each other would be the last; if he’d planned it. You will convince yourself that he did. He never said I love you when he left like that before; he’d never held you so tightly and safely before; he’d never kissed you like that before. 6. You will not be able to stop thinking about him kissing you. The first time, clumsy teeth and nervous laughter, the cheering of your friends in the background as you dissolve into giggles. The kisses hello, full of desperation and want and need. The goodbye kisses, sweet and pained and begging for it not to end. Fevered, sweaty kisses being peppered over every inch of each other’s bodies, tasting and claiming and learning each other. Communicating the best way you know how. But the kiss you won’t ever forget is the final goodbye kiss. Too short, too hurried, too empty. You will wish you could go back to that moment; to the goodbye you didn’t think would be the last one. And you will wish your mouths had never parted. You will pause the memory and rewind before you get to the moment you separated. You will play it on repeat. You will kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss until you forget that you have split up. You will dream of the kiss and wake up at the moment before the two of you separate. And when you wake up you will have a brief moment of happiness before you remember the memory is unfinished. And he turned around and walked away. And you will feel your heart break all over again. 7. Your friends will tell you to go on Tinder to distract yourself and look for someone better because, he wasn’t good enough for you anyway, right? But after you’ve had a swiping frenzy you will look through your matches and you will spot the curve of his nose, the colour of his eyes, the shape of his smile in everyone you said yes to. You will unmatch them all because nobody will ever be like him and you need something different. So you swipe again, no and no and no and - wait. You will see someone with the same name as him and your eyes will fill with tears. You will throw your phone across the room and watch it fall to the floor when it hits the wall. You will pick it up and marvel at its resilience. It will not be broken. You will wonder how. You will be jealous of its strength. 8. You will try to listen to music. But the first song on shuffle is the one you slow danced to. The next, the one he played for you on guitar. Then the one in that film you watched together when he held your hand even though it was sweaty. It has been four years. That’s a lot of music to avoid. You will end up listening to EDM because there is nothing but noise and a steadiness and stability that’s missing from your life. 9. You will not be able to tell your friends the first few times you try because you will cry and not be able to see the screen. When you manage it, they will offer their support but you will not be able to talk about it. They will invite you out. You will say yes. You will drink more than you should. It will not fill the hole in your chest. Boys will try and dance with you. They will be more attractive than him. They will not understand why you turn away. Neither will your friend. But you will have to excuse yourself to sit in the toilets and cry. You will know it is because of him. Because it sickens you for any hands other than his to be near your body. It is his attention you want and you could not keep it. You are nothing more than a quick fix for strangers and that is not what you want to be. 10. You will go outside. And it will be one of the hardest things you will do. The sunlight will be too bright, too warm at first. But soon you will acclimatise. You will walk down the street with legs that slowly get steadier. You will feel your hair swish down your back and wonder how it catches the light. You will see a mother go past pushing a beautiful child in a pram. You will see a moody teenager dragged out with her family. You will see a happy couple. And your heart will ache. You will feel a tug that you can’t explain. But they will pass. You will turn a corner. You will keep walking.

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