metaphor whore
your love is
another cancelled train
a car running out of gas
an invalid passport
leaving me stranded
and empty-handed
on the platform
of my life
your eyes are
a unique colour
a suspicious shade
like a snake-blink
or a broken-off branch
cruel and harsh
a black hole
sucking me in
always
your face is
the only image left
other than
you know
the way things felt once
i know it by heart
all the stories
i could trace it
with my eyes shut
like the etchings
of a coin
a child once took
and holds to memory
like a waterfall
on tired eyes
beating them shut
as she does in the shower
every day
every
fucking
day
your arms are
still not empty
but not holding me
how can that be right?
like the worst crimes
and the hardest times
all bunched into one
and in my head
and in my heart
aren’t i the drama queen?
my fear is
like one of the dark
or of potatoes
ridiculous
that i will never love again
or find a way out
of my sadness
like the map is the wrong way up
or i am digging downwards
into the centre of the earth
to find a way out
and maybe find a new land
call it my own
may you never visit
because then
i would be yours
again
…i am still yours.
