2

distraction therapy

the brain does this amazing thing
where it keeps reminding you of your pain
even when youre done
even when it’s long over
even when youre laughing with friends
or trying to finish an assignment
i tell myself to get over you
but then i remember the way you would
lift me a little off the floor when you hugged me
i tell my friends i am happy now
even though i still see your face when youre not there
and i still remember your number
even though i try hard to forget
have you ever tried telling your brain NOT to do something?
it’s like the rebellious teenager that never learns
anyways i learned the other day about distraction therapy
it’s a pain management technique
so what i do is this
i jog up a hill
and at the same time i listen to my favourite comedian
and as im basically dying
i cant stop thinking about how loud my breathing is
how much my chest hurts
and how fucking funny this guy is even tho i cant laugh
and even though it’s not the most ideal situation ever
i know ill be alright

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0

judas

many hours i have spent thinking about you
how great you are
how wonderful you are
how truly and utterly breath taken i am by you

i read about jonah the other day
and maybe there is still hope for me after all
but even solomon was broken by this world
and judas still betrayed you after all he had seen of you

was judas destined to fail long before he was born?
was he destined to walk only that path towards death?
was he never meant to make it to your kingdom?
how do i measure up Lord?
i used to think i had faith as small as a mustard seed
but my faith barely moves the leaves on a tree

because some days i need proof of you
when bad things happen
i need proof that you see what i see
i need proof that you see what i see and choose to stand watch
and i wouldnt even care that you do
because i know you have your reasons
but some days i need proof that youre here
that you just are

am i destined to be like judas?
who saw your wonders first hand
who watched you walk on water
who heard you speak
and heal the sick
who watched you feed thousands with only a handful of bread and fish
my god…
am i also destined to fail?

4

you are

ive always been jealous of artists
i want to know what it feels like to see the world
and then recreate it on paper and earth
i want to paint a portrait of what you look like on a wednesday afternoon
but the only colours i know of are
red, blue, yellow and brown
and that if you mix blue and yellow you get green
but even then it doesnt capture the ocean that is your eyes
i want to write you in words
but my vocabulary is only limited to words like
beauty, lust and butterflies
i want to recreate your very essence
in words and pictures and music and film
there’s not enough of you
and altogether too much of you
you are maths equations and theories of evolution
im not quite sure you exist
and if you do im not sure i understand why
but youre possible
and enigmatic
and sometimes when i think of you
those strong hands
and that wonderful laugh
i know a joy like no other

0

counting

ive been counting down the days
till i stop missing you
i keep tricking myself into thinking im happier without you
but then it’s 11.38am and i remember the way your eyes looked when you were thinking
it’s 8.29pm and i remember the way you would rub your head when someone asked you a question
or im laughing with friends and i think of you
sitting alone with a beer in your hand watching basketall
or it’s 3 oclock on a saturday afternoon
and i picture you climbing the goat track
or it’s 4.44am and i remember watching you study
and i remember how tired your eyes looked
and how sometimes you just smelled of coffee
im not one to believe in superstitions
wishing on stars
or walking under ladders
but every time i see the clock strike 11:11
i find myself hoping
and praying you will find me again

0

taken

your arms were made for lonely girls like me who hate themselves
who hate other women
my mother was cheated on and maybe that’s why i hate men

i crumble into the palms of your hands when my name tumbles from your lips like a silent prayer of thanksgiving

i could never find love in your arms but i am addicted to this punishment
addicted to the taste of sin addicted to this melting feeling in my gut
addicted to this guilt dont i deserve love too?

the flick of your tongue sets my body on fire your hands are like water soothing on my skin

there are days i hide from you and that’s how i prove i love myself
but most nights i find i cant resist
most nights i find you in between my thighs moaning from a place of torn convictions and shredded dignities
where there is only a veil between love and lust

maybe my heart fell out of my chest and is lodged between my hips and your lips

being with you is bruising and im constantly plunging off this cliff
but your mouth is so tender filled with ache and need and sweet words and cheap thrills
and laced with intimacy

you heal me
in this ungodly way
you are my healer my salvation
i am wounded inside
and your body is my morphine i give in to you wholeheartedly

but before even morning comes you are gone
and i am lying alone with only your scent and a heart filled with guilt
and regret and promises i know i will break when i see you again
and i wonder if this is punishment enough…

knowing that
i
was
made
for
you
but you were not made for me

a cruel joke

0

ashes

yesterday after lunch i thought
“wow. i havent thought about you since I woke up”
which made me think of you again
sometimes i hate myself

i still have some of your clothes
and sometimes i listen to your favourite songs
i dont know why i do
but i cant have you owning music
i dont want to feel you when i walk past our favourite places
i dont want to see your face when i think of our favourite things
maybe we have to experience this pain to be free
my god do i want to be free

i wrote a list of all the reasons why i loved you
and after writing it i cried for a long time
so i wrote a list of reasons of why i love myself
and it made me cry even more
i wrote a list of all “our” things
and i decided that i would give it back to the world

but most of the time i cry
and when im not crying i feel like crying
last week i burned the journal i had when i was with you
i thought it would help
as the paper curled and blackened in the flames
i promised myself this would be my last letter to you

3

residue

im happy for you
(what else is there to be?)
because im tired of this bitterness
this clawing in my gut
this heaviness i feel in my heart that only comes from loving someone
and there is nothing left to do but accept that youve gone away
and i realise now that i gave too much of myself to you
gave my body and mind to you so eagerly
i dont want to grow old with these regrets
that are already pulling my mouth into a frown
and creating pillows of sorrow under my eyes
i used to believe i was broken
and somehow you were my saviour
and maybe it was my fault for believing that
i am not broken
and i dont need fixing
but you did make my life so much more tolerable
and im not sorry because it was good while it lasted
its time to move on now
and if i cant take you from this experience then i take this:

i am not a half
and i dont need anyone to make me whole