Ice sculpture

Sculpted from ice.
You touch me;
Shiver,
Recoil,
Reattempt.

Burn us both with your affectation of affection.
Warm flesh frostbit by my glacial edifice.

The momentary stayingness of your fingerprint to me.
You peel yourself away and I weep;
A single tear runs over my glassy sheen.
I melt,
In the intensity of this love.

This painful love
Scorches me to steam
And I begin to disappear.
Your most delicate breath
Breaks me
Into cold perspiration.
I puddle on the floor.
Wasting away in bright, burning love.
The glare is blinding.

I drip
Drip
Drip.
Melting.
Waiting to fracture entirely.
Knowing it’s inevitable.

Bad Poetry Saba · Ice Sculpture

[01/12/2020]

Dreamt him dead

I dreamt him dead.
Dreamt him into non-existence;
To his final resting place.

Imagined myself at his funeral–
Sobbing,
Distraught–
For one last time.
And him, finally at peace.

He always said he wanted to die.

I watched him unravel,
Desperately trying to catch the threads
Of navy sweaters.
I watched him unravel.
Spiral further away from me
Into his own little labyrinth.

Little dark one.

I dreamt him dead, with a smile on his face.
A smile I hadn’t seen in so long.
Finally there’s an end
And I have something
To grieve.

But I wake from the dream,
Him beside me.
The soft rise and fall of breath
In easy, quiet sleep.
I suffocate sobs of guilt,
Smother myself asleep again.

I wake up red-eyed in the morning.
He always wakes up angry.

Bad Poetry Saba · Dreamt Him Dead

[01/12/2020]

12/01/21

We didn’t just break;
We shattered.

Smashed irreparably into fragments.

I cannot conceive that time will grind
The shards of us to sand.

Zombies

Counting the days since you

Day one without you:
I burrow in schematics of electrical things. In trying to understand them, I hope I can forget you. I fail in both regards. I choke myself with ruggedized cables. I fail a third time.

Day two without you:
I surround myself with people who are not you. I remember that there are people who are not you. I eat a buffet lunch. I sob into a shakey sleep, fingers grasping the palm of my phone.

Day three without you:
The people still are not you. They are offensively not you. I salt my Caesar salad with tears at the table. I learn that grief is unappetising. I acknowledge that this is grief. I push my plate away. I hope I lose too much weight.

Day four without you:
I drive. I drive as far as I can. I have to stop to pee. I whisper promises to trinkets in shops. I abandon them before committing to the checkout. I delete your number. I switch off my phone.

Day five without you:
I try not to write about you. Nothing rhymes. I turn my phone back on. I reply to my mum’s messages. I wait for a text from an unknown number.

[29/09/19]

Goodbye

I didn’t know I’d lose you so I didn’t say goodbye.
And, even now, I’m looking back and I’m still wondering why.
I wanted to be close to you and give you all of me.
I guess that all was all too much– it wasn’t meant to be.

I still recall the first time that I looked into your eyes
And searched in them for softness, but it wasn’t there to find.
I used to make you smile… Then I only made you frown.
I always tried to lift you up, you said I brought you down.

I tried so hard to love you and that’s where the problem lay;
I made a choice to drown with you and let love float away.

[30/12/18]

When you sing

I love it when you sing to me– I love you feeling heard.
I love each single letter of each syllable, each word.
I love it when the rhythm’s wrong, I love you out of tune;
I love to hear you humming on your own in the next room.
I love it when your voice cracks and I love it when it breaks.
I love your perfect melodies, but I cherish your mistakes.

[30/12/18]