Pouring salt water places it should not be
They left their perfume then
They left you
Calvin Klein In2you Her, ironic
Each morning I drown myself
in the smell of the first time we met,
in the smell of the first time I touched your hair,
in the smell of the first time I cut your hair.
I wade through the current of each undertone to find, what?
Why am I pouring this down my throat?
How can I speak when the oceans fist penetrates my lungs?
Every morning I gargle, wrestling the salt water in my lungs
to remind myself of a new first experience.
Experienced only with you.
An experience that now can only live within you there’s nothing intrinsic about it.
These pebbles on the shore weigh heavy.
Then I am a barnacle and you are the oceans tides,
I linger like perfume after a workout
To a sweaty erotic daydream
Petrified, tossed up and laid to rest over and over by the oceans oscillating touch.
I’m waiting for a small girl with the short blonde bob
to take her kitchen knife and slice me from this rock.
The girl wears a yellow rain jacket,
waterproof pants to match,
A yellow bucket hat and a huge grin.
the girl has blue eyes and an imprint
of her father’s hand in hers she has dimples
on the side of her cheek she does not know
Of pain she does not yet know suffering.
she does not yet know how to love
how she will be loved and who she would love,
she is unfazed by the tide.
she will sever the mass
Take it and prod it in the squishy part until it squirm’s again,
little does she know she this scene replace throughout her whole life,
A barnacle, a tide and unfazed little girl prodding the soft flesh underneath,
But for now I’ll just drown in your perfume
So that the tides can not take me,
Little girl I’m waiting.
Little girl, please hurry.
I am the little girl.
Gravy down your chin
We wrestle and sweat and let
The veg soak it up
I give you a plate of sweetcorn
But the real me is the buried pea
Buttery and small
Consumed by trying to be
Yellow and crunchy
You have chopsticks
Sift through the corn
And your frustrated
I can see it on your face
Because you can’t use chopsticks
Because you can’t find the pea
So you eat the corn
It tastes fine
I assure and
Tell myself that what
I’m saying is right
But it’s not, I fight
I’m having to tear the truth out
And that is why
I know it is self-love
I know it is self-love
And that’s why
I assure myself
I reassure myself
This time it was me
Third time lucky we said
I couldn’t swallow the mouth full
For even a week
It’s stuck here,
Here have it
Bubble and squeak now
Mushed and pressed
To the flame
To the stress
No diamond this time
All I have left
to give you
Is chewed up food
By the way
You have gravy down your chin