The Collector

When you loved me,
you told me secrets,
and I carefully wrapped each one
and stored them where even you
forget, under leaves and snow,
under traditions and inside jokes.
I recall the location of every truth,
hardened, even though you
are long gone, your footprints trailing.
These treasures
were not enough to keep you.
Surely, I will collect others,
squirrel them away
for a time when I am useful.

More Than

I am more than
a nasty woman.
I am a bad bitch.
Get the fuck
out of my way.

Fanático

Maybe there will be
buyer's remorse,
or maybe we will adapt
to the taste of blood.
I hope not,
but my brain fires
differently:
my brain is fire.
Maybe we deserve it.
This is what happens
when we find
our nooses decorative.

Worth Keeping

I wanted the chance
to love you through it,
the thick of it,
the rose bush you
threw yourself into.
I wanted the chance
to rise together,
you softly holding me
when I show you I am
a rose worth keeping.
But I am not who you want.
I am a tired ache
and a delicate reminder
of who you can't be
and what you can't do,
and I am left in the bushes,
red and swollen
but unplucked.

NWM

I'm dark like Nick Cave.
I'm sad like Morrissey.
I'm tired like Ian Curtis.
I'm mad like Black Francis.
I'm pompous like Bono.