(Not) Open to interpretation

(Not) Open to interpretation 

On my 18th birthday when I awoke

My teeth crooked with expectations

I did not know how kisses worked

Let alone love. 

I spoke to clouds still

And threw words like soulmate

Around till they cringed themselves

Grey, unbound, laughing uncontrollably.

Before I knew it I was 20 already

Stark in the middle of repressed teenage

I did not know how words worked

Let alone love.

I spoke to my mother still

And she pulled the covers over me

Every night and lied that she was proud

As she watched me let her daughter down.

Turning 22 was a real drag and I

Crawled into golden cages and padlocked them.

I did not know how alcohol worked

Let alone love.

I spoke to shadows still 

Every sin and sinner made sense

Who the fuck did I think I was, an artist?

Taking liberties that I would never fully earn.

24 years into this mess I am, cleaning up after 

Myself, stacking my shoes in orderly rows.

I know how promises work, maybe even

A little about love.

I speak to myself still

Walk barefoot on beaches with majestic

Crabs clawing at my toes, and it does not

Hurt, I think I might have almost turned brave.

Fruity wine

Drowsy evening unfolds that dread
Between my stomach and heart
Unreasonable with a desperation
I thought I had long grown out of.

Moon in a gibbous, almost complete
But not quite there, much like you
Moving inside me. A love bite I will
Wear longer than any of my clothes.

My hair in a nest that wishes it could
Shelter our soiled sheets and chocolate
Wrappers and my earlobes quivering to
The last song you made me listen to.

A foreign bed drenched in foreign rain
But in your arms I could say I was home
And not even cringe. These other places are
Just signposts on lonely train stations.

Love poems are nonsensical anyway
So crumple these words to a side. It's
Just that our last kiss reminded me of
Promises we never made but kept anyway.