January 2012
19 posts
i used to write every day for an hour. sometimes more. i would put all of my words onto a screen, line up my breath in black and white text and send it out like smoke signal. i was so scared that my whole life would go by without anyone noticing. i was so scared. i used to be alone a lot of the time. i was lonely a lot less than i was alone, but i was alone a lot of the time. after work and on...
you kiss me goodnight and roll onto your side. within the minute you’re breathing heavy. i get so jealous of the way you sleep sometimes. i can hear the wind slamming doors somewhere. the rain is coming in through our windows, throwing itself against our walls. i don’t know what happened to summer. i put my head next to your head and curl my toes against your calves. im that small next...
it’s 1am and i just switched off a ridiculous film about god knows what. you were tired and the show was no good so i stopped it right in the middle. i kept looking at you from my side of the bed to make sure i was laughing at the right places. i don’t see anything anymore. you keep asking me if im okay and i keep saying no. im not, but maybe that’s okay.
maybe it has to be,...
there is so much left behind. so much sinew and tendon. so many stretching flexing memories that wind their way into my lungs. i wish i knew what kind of a person i was. because sometimes, in the dark, i forget all the things im supposed to be. i run my hands over my body and i feel so very erased. it is only the noise of your breath next to me that keeps me on this side of the edge.
is that when you said goodbye to her again? when you picked up your old bones and moved them back to your side of the bed. you’ve spent nearly two years sleeping where she once slept. laying your body on top of her memory. breathing in whatever is left. last sunday you’d taken your neat pile of papers and thumbed magazines that had been keeping your side warm and moved them to the...
i stand there, barefoot and bareboned in my kitchen. you are all we have, i say, begging him not now, not yet. not this. you are all we have left. he puts his head in his hands and looks a little more grey. i close my eyes to all of this. to him and the kitchen sink. i close my eyes, landlocked, and all i hear is the ocean. stormy waters pulling me closer. closer. i want to disappear. bleach my...
i am not ready for this, my world has already lost almost everything. and then, here it comes, waltzing in and i know i should learn to be okay with this. but how i am supposed to be okay with this. when this has the claws to tear out everything to redefine to hide to bury the only constant thing my life has ever known. no, im not proud of the way this heart is breaking.
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reliving my early twenties, thanks to my compulsive journal keeping. awful. also, i can’t quite write like that anymore either. i don’t know which is worse.
when i first loved you, you would take me to watch rockabilly bands by candlelight. we would take trips on our weekends, to darling harbour, to the gardens, to the seas. we would take ferries here and take trains there. we would kiss each other quite insane in middle-of-the-day sun. and when i dressed myself up in my shiniest, highest heels and painted my eyes black, you would tell me how...
i think that we knew we had destroyed ourselves before we ever admitted it out loud. our hearts were full of each other, but those hearts were so full of black paint. forever covering the beautiful things we’d find at 3am, inside each other’s palms. forever painting it black. there was jealousy and venomous mouths that we’d always pretend never happened. those petty, ugly things...
December 2011
16 posts
i bit a cigarette between my teeth, scraped a match and sucked smoke in. we sat on cold, slightly wet bricks that paved the courtyard and stared up at the patch of sky that remained between the lines of townhouse roofs. we talked sometimes about life, but we mostly talked about death. and about love. the air became too cold for bare feet, but we stayed outside anyway. desperately opening our...
love is real it is not just lukewarm sheets and sentiments. i think about things like this when we’re in bed, after we’ve had that great, dirty kind of sex and are staring at the ceiling, our legs still knotted together. i think about a lot of things, like getting us married someday and what i’ll cook you for dinner next. but mostly i just think about love, and how lucky i am to...
sometimes i am frightened by the world, and everyone in it. i can hear the rain outside and it pours it pours it pours it’s way into my chest. waterlogged and wrecked, am i really what you want? i don’t see why when i look in the mirror. i am pale, i am tired and i am old. sometimes i think you deserve better than me, someone who will get up in the morning and pull themselves...
beyond hammered. i hate everybody.
November 2011
19 posts
she looked across at him. you changed my life. he smiled. you changed my life. the look they shared from their separate couches could have filled kansas prairies. years of mistakes and emptiness, filled. they reach out and threaded fingertips, just for a moment. love like this, it doesn’t happen to everyone.
no more pain, just watered down whiskey and dull fingertips. conversations loud, like she was missing the point. like she was missing. but no matter. here, there were no tides rocking her boat. she was stable, sailing out into the oceans and river mouths. further and further, away away, until her heart was just another line in the horizon. the conversation gets louder. liquor breath carrying her...
totally procrastinating finalising a quote for corporate stationary. so instead, meaningless this.
What is your entire name? erin-louise wilson. no middle name, double barrelled first name.
What did you do on your last birthday? had a wayyy shitty day. realised that a bunch of people i thought were important to me just thought they were a lot more important than me. live & learn. Something...
you like me better when im sad, she said. when i am nothing but broken bones. when that black bird sits on my chest and screams and screams. i am easier to love when my nights are long and my words scratch deep inside some hidden part of your chest. when my honesty leaks between my fingers, because there is nothing like a breaking heart. there is nothing like a broken girl. nothing like somebody...
i am happy. i wake up in the middle of the night and look for you in our messy bed, at midnight, at 2am. you wrap your big legs around my small legs and i am sheltered, i am saved. yes, saved. all of these years when i was so godless, when i was so hopeless. when i was just a lost girl sitting inside a lonely room, talking to ghosts and feeding fear. i didn’t think about having a future...
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with love we send on those we lost, and with regret i think of you. you still sink inside of me. sinking in that salted, strawberry sea inside of me. counting stars with a liquored mouth and forever reminding me that we are bound, that we were blood. it has been too long without you, too many people have mired themselves in your life and in your memory for me to have any right. i have no right....