“With you, intimacy colours my voice.even ‘hello’ sounds like ‘come here'.”

“you were like an ulcer on the inside of my cheek that my tongue could not stop touching.loving you was like watching a stranger clean a week old wound; i felt sick, but i wanted more.”

“i don't know when love became elusivewhat i know, is that no one i know has itmy fathers arms around my mothers neckfruit too ripe to eat, a door half way openwhen your name is a just a hand i can never holdeverything i have ever believed in, becomes magic.i think of lovers as trees, growing to andfrom one another searching for the same light,my mothers laughter in a dark room,a photograph greying under my touch,this is all i know how to do, carry loss around untili begin to resemble every bad memory,every terrible fear,every nightmare anyone has ever had.i ask did you ever love me?you say of course, of course so quicklythat you sound like someone elsei ask are you made of steel? are you made of iron?you cry on the phone, my stomach hurtsi let you leave, i need someone who knows how to stay.”

“if you gave me half a moon of a chancei wouldkiss the incisors out of your mouth, cleanand hold them in my own, like chippings from an old mugthenpray my tongue intoa bowl of holy waterand ask god to neverleave you thirsty.”

“the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year i learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it. the year of hugging people i don’t know, because i want to know them. the year i made peace and love, right here.”

“all those nights with the phone warming the side of my face like the sun.”

“i give myself five days to forget you.on the first day i rust.on the second i wilt.on the third day i sit with friends but i think about your tongue.i clean my room on the fourth day. i clean my body on the fourth day.i try to replace your scent on the fourth day. the fifth day, i adorn myself like the mouth of an inmate.a wedding singer dressed in borrowed gold.the midas of cheap metal.tinsel in the middle of summer.crevice glitter, two days after the party.i glow the way unwanted things do,a neon sign that reads;come, i still taste like someone else’s mouth.”