Poetry

poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence ~ Audre Lorde

Hannah Hannah

Miles in my skin

These are mine – they are the breadth of the world and the length of my life.

These are mine – they are the breadth of the world and the length of my life.

It is the arcade tickets in blue that now look brown,

And the movie stubs, creased and torn in two

That let me know I was ever there with you.

I have created space in every wallet, every room

To make sure your things were never absent

To cherish our time spent.

Until ‘you’ meant someone new

And I would cry when I found I could create new spaces to fill,

Reminding me of the strength my hands had

To build new drawers and keep moving forward.

Some things I lost on my travels and I am even glad,

(Not having them makes me remember more)

To not carry much with me when I explore.

But tucked away, under thorns and brambles, as often as I can,

I look under them to see if I can find anything more to know about you.

Though you are galaxies away and I no longer see them in your eyes,

It is the moon that recalls our last goodbyes.

And it is a pity I have nothing else to remember that by.

by Hannah

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Hannah Hannah

Afternoon delights.

I can have as many as i want if i’m good.

I smile at him sweetly as anyone would.

It’s only one a day, and i’ll burn the rest,

Every new touch lingers on the flesh.

I crave something new and sweet, I deserve a little treat.

Each strange face a cute meet and a foreign bed to sleep.

Delicious on my lips until it spoils my insides,

I always leave the remnants on my bedside,

So the next time I deprive myself i don’t forget

How to replace hunger with regret and a warm bed.

But i’m prettier between bedsheets than the confectionary isle,

And I promise not to do either for a long while.

(You can see where i’m going with this)

A hershey or a kiss? Both only moments of momentary bliss

That clings to my mouth and I suck in its foul taste.

It sinks to my stomach. He brings sweet treats to my place.

by Hannah

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Hannah Hannah

In heat.

It’s the heat that kills.

When I lie in bed and it seeps through me pooling in that inferno,

I forget what the flames eat first, and what evil lurks beneath,

Or within, but I hold my breath until it stills.

I wait and linger and plead, but the darkness wants everything to do with me.

It fills me until the cracks smooth over and I kick at covers.

When I was smaller, you would tell me to leap from the sheets,

Grab everything I could hold onto; now my hands work against me and I no longer use yours.

For a while I held on, cramming the space around me and then it turned to great waves,

No longer driftwood on the strange tides, but jetsam trashing my shores.

I loathed these walls and the ice that crept around me,

Teetering along edges and finding me weak.

When I can no longer reason, it is your name I speak,

Then the flames swell and flicker and part.

I descend further and stop to see your face from below

And remember how it felt long ago to sit by your side and burn

When I used to wait for sparks to take flame.

It is the embrace of time I only know so dear,

Yet I hope to see you come back around here.

by Hannah

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