"She loved you like the frail thing you were. Limp knees and awkward wrists were forgotten because..."

“

She loved you like the frail thing you were.

Limp knees and awkward wrists were forgotten

because when you loved her it was like a dance

with satin underwear feeling like ballgowns

and with fluorescent hallway light smiling

like camera bulbs.

She loved you in underground corridors and it felt like a

public announcement,

but only if your words were quiet enough. Only if you held hands under the table,

silver fingers being too bright and dangerous

to be coupled with silver spoons.

She will always be the first time you listened to that song with

She/Her/Hers pronouns

and realised that it sat in your bones longer

than any other words before.

The first time you spent too long looking at pretty girls

in the reflection of the bus window

their fresh faces, their made up faces,

captivated you.

Until SHE came along and blew them all away.

With just a glance that felt like bullet holes and broken glass

and absinthe,

SHE is always the horse trodden body on the ground

a sign of revelation and pride.

SHE is always the lace curtains in your grandmas house

a wedding dress burnt alive.

You loved HER so hard you didn’t know you were in trouble

until you found your awkward wrists were broken ones

and your knees were bruised from

breaking HER fall.

Now you can’t kiss HER without tasting the word

destruction

and it doesn’t sound so appealing anymore.

Maybe both of you aren’t enough

to defeat the army and their raging war.

Maybe after the battle is won SHE will look around

and decide SHE quite liked the taste of trouble after all.

”



- octobereighteenth

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