How to cultivate

Because 

We were once sweet, young golden-eyed things with an intelligent face 

Once craning our necks to get a glimpse 

Of the bright future

Fingers locked in a tight embrace. 

Once 

All play fights, domestic cooking and pillow talk. 

And

blood stained pages 

Tore 

Apart -

We choke 

We balk - 

Because 

In dark desert streets, 

They lay me down 

They lacerate my clothes and skin 

Brought out my true identity from deep within.

Ashes, ashes, 

We all fall down. 

We all 

Fall - 

I sat in the office 

Pulling threads at the worn 

seat cushions of the blue therapist's couch. 

Refusing to talk. 

Crumple,

Slouch. 

Listen close to how my ribs break 

How my even measured breathing 

Turns raspy, gasping 

Because 

"Don't be afraid

Don't be afraid",

They keep telling me; and to be fair, its clear they're dismayed. 

But the misguided means of comfort, thinking a prayer will solve an arterial wound? 

an idiot's bandaid. 

"Comfort"? No, 

Conformity.


And my shadow sags against the wall in exhaustion, falling back into quiet routine with a smart snap 

Like a guillotine. 

I am not quite recovered
from my skeletal years.
I snarl,
close to tears. 

We were once golden eyed things 

With romantisized memories of harps and wings - 

And now
and now
we all fall down.