I’ve never met someone so controlled by fear
Someone who sees intimacy as a drunken fist fight
That only ends in black eyes and blood
And vulnerability is a bad word you don’t speak of
You’re always waiting for the knife to be used
But you don’t realise you’re the one who holds it
It’s always in your hand fending off him, her, I
And you protest for justice and peace
Call yourself an anarchist with clenched fists
Yet you don’t fight for the way my hand softly grazes your thigh
The songs I’ve carefully chosen for your mix tapes
The books I’ve lent you with words that have saved my life
That I’ve hoped would save yours too
The late night phone calls with hearts unwrapped
The poems I’m yet to write about how I fucked you
In such a way you felt your body shed away all insecurity
But I’m stuck on the other side of your ‘NO WAR’ sign
You place it in between us all of the time
And while you’re carrying weapons
I’m picking flowers to place by your bedside
That’ll bloom and die in a few days
But the smell of them will linger in your nose
And you can hide behind your stainless steel armour
That I leave my finger prints on
Cover up your rainbow coloured bruises
With tattoos and intellect
Believe your solitude is empowering
Trust nothing, no one, ever
Swim as far away as you can in a fifty metre cement pool
Until there is no breath left in your lungss
Until your legs give in
Until you sink into my arms


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