heavenward-s - Tumblr blog

[heavenward-s]

i’ve developed a habit of visual

eavesdropping

the words meant for other eyes

silently studied in a public private moment

i’ve seen suicide suggested on the tube;

abuse described in shallow terms

excuses threaded through hollow explanations

please i have a reason

tell me why i’m like this

explanation is not excuse

please don’t threaten her again

[heavenward-s]

my voice was lost when i was fourteen 

down the drain with my willpower 

talent doesn’t count as a tween 

unless you can tend it in your twenties

his words are bolder

he knows he is good 

he stands by his outpourings 

he rests on deserved laurels 

in the looming attic glistening wet on the skylights 

analyse my outpourings so that i may understand 

cower behind the length of twisted intentions 

humiliation hides behind every corner

[heavenward-s]

i’m sitting in the park, and pigeons are mating in the bush behind me, and bluebells and blooming in the grass in front of me, and the bench beside me is empty. i wonder if every weekday will be like this from now on: a lonesome trudge towards love on the weekend?

[heavenward-s]

perhaps i’ll spend the afternoon inside my green turtleneck. it’s quiet and the birds are tweeting and there are enough bins for everyone to throw their ice lolly wrappers away. the sun stays out but it’ll dapple itself on command when you start to find it too bright. the grass is green and moist but leaves no muddy stains on your skirt. the samba band plays in the distance and their hope is real and tangible and applicable. we each save the planet before dinnertime. 

[heavenward-s]

i want to die in his bed, in his arms, with him watching. if he let me die that way i would know i was loved. he slips away into routine, he misses the sunsets, he gives in to what should be. i’ll wait until it’s my turn but i already know the ending. we retire at sixty-six, Junior watches on, our lives’ savings dwindle. we should’ve died in the light. we should’ve died while the music was still playing.

[heavenward-s]

it’s funny what comes to you in a dream. a reminder of the things you always wanted but somehow forgot over the course of a few dragging months, the lights too bright to remember what you came here for in the first place. love is blinding, but it illuminates the dull middling parts of a long list of thoughts and shows you what you forgot you agonised over. in a mid-blue heaven i am sitting and waiting for you to come home. i’m looking forward to the sun and the gift and the kiss of 4 o'clock.

[heavenward-s]

i have a dream i am a spiny bag of bones and my skin doesn’t crawl and my organs are empty and quiet

[heavenward-s]

Is it okay if I take a picture of myself? which version of me does that fit into? which of my friends will like me less? which of them will see it as a delusion, which as proof of my vanity? where shall i post it? i gave up a while ago on a curated pictographic diary, an archive of a Cool Young Thing and the way she dressed when my self esteem curled up smaller than my narcissism. or did i? isn’t this proof of some attempt at literary portraiture? can i describe myself well enough in words for it to count? i haven’t taken a photo of myself in months. i can’t track the changes. i know my hair is different but i can’t remember what it looked like before. 

[heavenward-s]

in a dream where we kept ourselves to ourselves;

took what we were offered, 

shared as we should have,

knew how to stop and how it should start.

we should’ve loved in tandem.

i’ll honour your greed

and forgive myself my envy

and laugh at our foolishness.

[heavenward-s]

master manipulator dressed white 

she would have done anything for love, 

and now she’s found it. 

lose yourself in the fray of

a heart broken and a heart bought - 

was it worth it?

is the water warm enough to drown in? 

[heavenward-s]

it’s not a brave face with you,

a smile in soft recognition

take my frowns and turn it around!

honesty in everything,

tell me your sins and we’ll wash them clean

under the shower head together.

hark! here is a love to tell people about

[heavenward-s]

i wanted it painful,

but all that hurts is the anticipation:

when will it cut me?

when will you decide you’ve had enough?

i want to love so much i can’t eat

i want shadows under my eyes to show

how much i can’t sleep

i want my brain to drip with you

[heavenward-s]

i think this year i have learnt the value of unconditional love with conditions attached:

i will love you whatever you do (but please don’t hurt the others),

tell me your darkest secrets and i will forget them (until you need me to remember).

you will love me (until i answer your riddles wrong, and then i will realise i never deserved it anyway).

[heavenward-s]

bliss in sordid anticipation;

he needs to file down his edges

before he hurts someone.

i’ll wait while he does it,

stand here while he tires himself out

and sees me for what i am:

not what he wanted,

to say the least.

[heavenward-s]

pleased as punch!

perhaps it’s wrong to want

this natural circular denouement,

maybe this is not winning,

maybe my losses contort themselves

under arrogance, a joke taken too far,

too late to turn back now

[heavenward-s]

flaky pastry

crumbs in bed,

stone the fruit in the grass,

it’s permitted.

numbers in lists

weigh it up,

watch it fold,

see it hunch over and die

or

read the words of those who could

see success in their spines

[heavenward-s]

soft home of suffering:

our posters mingled on the walls

socks mixed up in the drier

and colin’s forgotten beetroot.

a gift and a gift in return;

a knock she couldn’t answer and

your keys forced back through the letterbox