We walk in silence and
the daffodils have started to come out

the birds are singing
and today the sun has decided to make an appearance

you ask me what I am thinking
and it is hard to ever answer now because
I am always thinking the same thing
and my mind is not itself any more

you think of things that I do not care for
and I think with a brain of shadows and darkness
yet we both push past the murky clouds between us and
you hold my hand
you hold my hand with yours 

Light
empty
weightless
pain

I feel my
synapses starting to stutter
my 
brain disconnecting
my mind is all
air
and 
space

My eyelids are heavy 
and so is my 
skull
but
my thoughts are so
light
that they float around without being held by
anything
at all. 

Apologies.

I want to apologise, if I may,
for the silences,
for the fire,
for the suffocating darkness,
for the marks on my body,
for the marks on my mind,
and for the burden of all of my years that you are shouldering with me.
I want to say that I didn't know that it would return,
and that I would not have wanted to drag you into the dirty ground with me,
and that I am torn between pushing you back up into the sunshine where I cannot follow and letting you have your way.
It's only that there are only a few things left that I enjoy:
the scent of my different types of tea; peppermint, chai, and blackcurrant, amongst others,
cigarettes,
your kisses,
and, the long talks we sometimes have,
sunshine,
and the long talks with my friends.
I find it hard to keep checking the clock to see if it is time to sleep yet,
to breathe a sigh of relief that I have made it through another day,
and that I can escape into nightmares,
which aren't nice either but it is better than being awake.
I never meant to sink,
and it makes it harder knowing that I may sink you too, and again,
I am sorry. 

Eating Disorder.

It is a little late, but this is for Eating Disorders Awareness Week, which was February 20th - 27th.

Prologue.

The girl carefully picked her way through the trees. All was silent except for the noise of the snow melting; a muffled ‘thump’ as a clump fell from a branch and hit the ground below, the dripping of water as it joined a small pond from the twigs above, and the occasional creaking of branches as they adjusted to the shifting weight. Her feet were bare and she was wearing a sleeveless, pale pink dress that came to just below her knees, and if she was cold, she did not show it. She was extremely slender; fragile-looking, and delicate in her movements. Her dirty blonde hair was tied loosely in a bun, and as she turned her face upwards towards the sky, she showed no expression.
Then, the wind began to blow: gently at first, dancing around her body, whispering words that she couldn’t quite catch. Her head turned swiftly from side to side, trying to understand the warning that the air was bringing her. As it blew faster, she felt the cold whip across her face and through her hair, curling around her, whistling fiercely, until it was a high-pitched screeching. The branches groaned in protest, and the sky darkened. The wind roared in her ears.
Suddenly, it stopped. The sky brightened once again and the trees became silent. As the wind left the woods, winding between the trees, she caught two words: they’re coming.

I feel like hard
plastic
soft
skin
sweet like
cherry drops
cold like
winter
and bitter like
the harsh wind
that blows on 
the days the snow falls. 

Today.

Today I feel sad.

In fact, I feel really sad.
That hopeless kind of sad, 
where everything feels awful,
where your whole body feels heavy,
where your mind is clogged with darkness.
The kind where you hide under your sheets,
with the lights off and the curtains drawn,
and wish that the world would disappear,
or better still,
that you would disappear.