love, our last moral outpost
stood stoic, awash with a blazing fury
these days when nothing means more to me than you and him,
and us together, nothing means more than love

our last moral outpost
high up in the winds of change
set fire, set a fire and watch it all burn
witness what grows from the ashes
nothing means more than love

love

i become, pensive in december
depending on the weather
i can be pensive in december

in the winter with my eyes wide
deep breath, big stride
the small hours of daylight
contradicting my awake time

sleepless nights hold heavy eyes,
they just stay wide like a deer,
like my dear in the headlights
barrelling through our night time
waiting for the sunrise

ready to start again

pensive

we each collect a piece of the other
until all our pieces are shared or stolen
we are jigsaws of ourselves built with pieces of people
are we the same as we were or am i you all i know is i am yours

jigsaws

my voice breaks whilst my eyes shake
and out comes this water that’s not the
out come that i thought about as i’m searching in the sand for you

my lungs gasp as the noises start
i partake in a scream that’s loud
it’s part fake but it’s still so loud as the clouds stop and they search for you

it’s wet now, whilst my eyes seize with tears so heavy and cold i do nothing but heave my mind away and prize them open to search for you

the cotton soft of skin to touch how long i kept our palms together

empty lungs

it’s your milk bottle thighs
those translucent reflections of the blue within your eyes
both limbs, littered with chocolate coloured marks marks that disappear
when the light has turned to dark

it’s the shape of your knees
those round dented pebbles that float across my sea
of milk bottle skin that’s speckled with those dark chocolate marks that remind me of you

milk bottle thighs

i am changed by you, a vast, unwavering, cataclysmic shift of perception so minor or so major i can no longer tell i think i am strong but then i cry

at the thought of you, your hands so small yet full of so much potential your eyes, wide, wandering and blue so small yet full of such understanding

you had arrived, not ready but ready we will teach you we promise

promises