A poem of fire

Someday I’ll write you a poem of fire
You’ll be crying to the night
About the desire that you severed
From your heart when the old shell
Began to break again and again

Someday I’ll write you a poem of fire
That will turn your tears to steam
In it we’ll scream together
Veiled, so they won’t see our faces twist
And ask us to smile because it’s a comfortable fix when you can’t hold pain

Someday I’ll write you a poem full of fire
The words will roar and bleed from the page
They’ll burn right into your soul
And free you from your cage

This isn’t a poem full of fire,

Yet.

-A.A. @ nyxilotbiscuit

#28 healing poetry; believe

The air is cool when the sky is bright
The mist rolls in the thick of moonlight
The world rests in an opaque veil

I wonder if I could hear the wail
Of an albatross at sea

With all this silence, I should
Believe
That if the world were to speak
I would hear and repeat
The cadence of the dance
Between woman and beast

As I look into the silence
And hear the beats
Of hearts that are not human

As I look into the silence
And, instead, hear the beats
Of hearts that never need be human
To love.

-A.A. @nyxilotbiscuit

#27 healing poetry; shine

I watch in the shadows
As dark waters kiss the shore
They lick the sand to glass
And when he asks, I know I’m sure
When the lightening hits my skin
Like the sand I know I’ll sing
And be reformed into something new
Something, glittering
Not under the gaze of man,
But under the gaze of a love
That feels like water
Meeting the shoreline
To a rhythm out of time
To a rhythm that is just mine…

-A.A. @nyxilotbiscuit

#26 healing poetry; soft sunrise

There’s a soft sunrise
That leaves traces of starlight
Glinting in the shadows of dawn
There’s a soft sunrise
That asks me to rise
Though my pillows are sweet and warm
I wake to the scent
Of the garden where I first
Knew my soul
There’s a soft sunrise
Asking my eyes
To open, to a glittering world

-A.A. @nyxilotbiscuit

Disintegrate with tears

I sip some water and
think about my needs
in this strange era
of pandemic’s and reams
of sorrow
unraveling on my screen
that are not mine
it’s a strange thing
when sadness wakes
you to care
you had not known
you had anymore
it’s strange how walls
we build
disintegrate, with tears.

#25 healing poetry; A memory of a gentler time

Water glistens in drops across
The face of the mirror
I watch
The new edges of my face appear
In the corners of my eyes
As the wisps of hair around my ear
Speak to a gentler time
When someone else asked me
To stay steady, steady now
While a hairbrush whispered through
My curls
It was a gentler world
I piece the memory together
With a curve of my lips
Favoring a time when I was lifted
My hips, were rose petals, then.

Water glistens in drops across
The face of the mirror
I watch
As midnight sets in my skin
A memory of a gentler time.

A memory of a gentler time.

The Taut Truth

I feel taut
Next to the presence of your possession.
An extra person, is convalescing,
In this room, built for just us two.
“Is it true?”
I think, and worry that
A part of me is excited —

To taste the excitement of someone else.
To breathe it in through every sense.

Does that make sense?

They say that if I forgive you,
It would mean the rending of my self-respect.
But what parameters of yours,
Apply to me in this context?
I wonder, could I taste her on you?
I spent weeks before I moved,
Knowing the “truth,”

That made my breasts taut,
And my mouth bare,

With the promise of a new adventure.

While I begged for the scent of you,
There.
I begged to have you beside me,
Wrapped like the waves of my hair,
Falling down onto my chest,
We’d be safe, if only we could both live there.
I ignore the storm now raging,
the taut truth is that
I bared my soul to you.

And you loved another’s best.
I tore at my breast, and wondered when the pain would subside.

You lied.

I realised, though, that I had already set you loose,
As if something in me knew,
You were not who you pretended to be.
Now your memory sits on my shoulders,
Like an oversized shirt,
I bought in a vintage store,
Before I realised I could have more.

Writing when it hurts…and a poem about us.

This post will be a little different, because I’m in a different space while writing it. But, an important one, I think.

Recently, my body went into shock. Then, I had an actual real-life shock. Then, I said, well fuck-it, what do writers do when everything goes to shit?

We write.

I’m used to the shock symptoms and I know how it plays out.

I lose weight drastically and quickly, I feel like I’m being uncomfortably stretched, everything is jittery and my mind is on high alert. I tend to get insomnia, and I freak out a little in my personal relationships – I try keep a cool head and on the inside I’m overthinking everything.

I feel like crap, basically. And I’m still here tapping on a keyboard at night, watching words appear before I’m sure I’ve thought them – thinking that maybe there’s a treasure in this darkness, this obscure soul-space and overthinking mess. I also have the option to edit later, which is nice.

I like the control (tee-hee)

I’m focussed, I can say that for sure. Most of the shock symptoms have seen themselves out, and pain has the odd quality of forcing you into a moment. In this moment, I decided I needed to write, to see what would come out.

Here’s my moment:

I’m feeling vulnerable, and I’m feeling raw. I’m feeling self-conscious about my poetry. I’m feeling overwhelmed by my relationships, past, present, and even the future is stressing me right now. I’m angry, resentful, unsure about the pandemic and everything that we all have to deal with right now – in fact, the only thing I can say for sure is that I’m human, and that I write, and that even if this blog fades into obscurity I will always be a human that writes.

What I’ve noticed about my writing, when I’m in pain, or shock, or anything negative – is that it’s never popular, but it’s always powerful.

I had to block someone from my recently-started instagram (@nyxilotbiscuit) I never wanted to see this person again. I wanted to feel safe online. I wanted to feel like I could be myself and in the days running up to blocking this person, I had been questioning my right to write.

Forgetting, of course, that a ‘right to write’ was never something I needed – you don’t need a permission slip to express your soul-deep truths.

So convinced was I of my own impervious brilliance, that I never thought I’d have to see this person again. But I did, and it feels like crap, and I was reminded of the shell of a person I became around ‘said now blocked anonymous instagrammer’ (catchy nickname, I know). I thought about how much strength it had taken to get up, get out and never look back.

I felt an inch of pride worm its way into my internal shitstorm.

With everything I had been dealing with mentally and physically, I decided that instead of slipping into overthinking…how about a writing challenge?

‘What can I create from all of this darkness, and shock, and pain and shit and this anger and this nothingness that makes me want to jump into the very cold (and safe) ocean just to feel free again?’

I wrote a poem below – which is not edited, or high-brow, or sultry, or sexy, or even particularly healing – it’s just a poem, and a song, and it’s everything I might have said if I had had the chance, to let the hurt out.

It’s called:

‘By the way, my hot neighbour says hello’



I’ve never really been a cheap highs kinda girl.
But I chased your memory around the world,
I hoped you’d see me.
But when you found me,
I didn’t feel anything that was real,

What was real, about you?

I thought I was the liar,
Walked into the fire of your mind,
And after, I met not one but eight of your kind,
And the sex was fine,
But my heart was lined,
With strange swollen symbols,
Like I —
Drew when I was young, and heartbroken.

I was hopin’ you would see me, then.
Legs spread, and back bent,
You’d know you never owned me,
then.
But it was never about you,
and it always about me.
And when I ran under the stars
by the sea,
My heart leaped to be happy
and I know I’m not perfect.

But I, was always worth it.

And you, just cause you lied
Doesn’t it make alright –
I love the girl I am now.
I love the woman I am now.
I’m allowed
To shout out
I wanna feel safe, and
I wanna feel loved, and
I wanna paint above the clouds
in Barcelona
in Mexico I’ll go, to the hot air
balloons,
I’ll dance under the Northern Lights
in Lofoten
I’ll go surfing with my new friends
and then —

I’ll never see you again.

I’ve never really been a cheap highs kinda girl.
But I chased your memory around the world,
I hoped you’d see me.
But when you found me,
I didn’t feel anything that was real,

It’s not that it was never real between us,
But I’m made of a different kind of cosmic dust,
and I don’t need or want you here,
instead I’ll sit with all my fear, and
finally tell someone new,

‘I love you’

By the way,
My hot neighbour,
says
‘Hello…’



Peach Kisses From Her

Peach kisses
Over button-down shirts —

Why did you run away
From her?

When things got raw,
You recognised the long straw —

Did you scare yourself,
Away?

Again?

How long will you
Deny yourself love,

Because you fucked it up
Once?
Because it’s hard, unapologetically,
intense?

Peach kisses,
Over button-down shirts —

You don’t have to run
Away

From her.

#24 healing poetry; anyway?

I had a daydream
As the sky grew
Dark and grey
And stormy
I walked
With my plastic headphones
Creaking to my steps
I became aware of
Bright fairy lights
Strung up in mind
Running through
Colourful paper lanterns
It felt like bubbly joy, there
And I had a vague sense
That I was smiling
While I hung up
More paper lanterns
And I had a vague sense
That I was lighter and brighter
There
I walked home
And spun myself into a panic
Like panic was sugar
Instead of the bubbly joy
I had seen
In my mind’s eye
I was reminded
That if the mind is a trickster
Anyway
Did that not mean
I could choose joy,

Anyway?