*this is a poem i wrote about my grief.
*performed at a slam poetry contest in st. andrews, where i spent three weeks in the summer of 2016. three weeks of magic, sand, books, david bowie and messy dorms.
*performed at the lancaster poetry café in 2017, autumn. having people tell me i’ve moved them to tears is magical and it’s something i’ve never dared to hope for and it’s something i’ll never take for granted. thank you
1st of January, 2016
Happy one month anniversary, my grief, my love.
You’ve been good, you’ve been still.
I’ve been spending my evenings writing scattered letters to you.
I roughly choke on paper as I burn
with sore pain. I miss you.
It’s been one month,
I feel dispatched.
I think it’s fair to say that you broke my brain.
I’ve been mulling over you since December.
I can’t help
but feel angered,
I am shamed.
I sweat self-loathe
each time I
drag my nails across my cheeks
and carve your name onto my forehead,
trying not to forget your face.
But I have.
I’ve started to forget
the curve of your neck,
your sharp teeth,
your heavily edited psychedelic pictures,
your long poems,
the short story you wrote to me.
I gulp and write as much about you as I can,
so that no one will ever forget
your painful songs,
your whiny voice,
your sad words,
You were brilliant.
You were so good. I was sure you’d be the next Lou Reed – so fresh, so wild, so pearly, so beautiful.
I thought you’d love me,
and then leave me,
and I’d spend my life watching you recite your lines in movies,
or looking at your face, plastered on shiny new books,
and I would lull to myself:
remember me, when you’re the one who’s silver screened, remember me when you’re the one you’ve always dreamed. remember me, when everyone’s noses start to bleed. remember me, special needs
You were candy in my mouth
until you smashed my teeth from the inside,
as my heart ashed on the 1st of December.