Written 9 March 2019

I have loved you
Since the moment of your being:
When you sang into life;
When your dance was joy.
And then when the world fell around you;
When the ground trembled from your pain.
I held you when there was still softness to be held.
I watched as your eyes hardened
Your teeth sharpened
Your fingers bent into claws
And you wailed for the world to end.
And I love you still,
Even as you hold me in your hateful gaze
Waiting for the mirror to shatter.
And it never will.

Written 16 June 2019/Finished 21 August 2019
 
When it’s dark inside
And you feel your way along the shadows
When it hurts inside
And you’re drowning in the shallows
 
Oh when there’s no one
Who could ever slow your tears
When you’d give anything
To make your island disappear
 
Just close your eyes now
And feel your heartbeat
You’re alive now
You’re electricity
 
[Chorus]
I know
You’ve been waiting
For your light
To shine again
Searching
For some feeling
While the current
Flows through your hands
 
When you’re reaching out
For the girl who you remember
But she’s crumbling
Like dead leaves in September
 
Oh when you’re hungry
But you cannot fill the need
She’s the garden
All you needed was a seed
 
So close your eyes now
And feel your heartbeat
You’re alive now
You’re electricity
 
[Chorus 2]
I know
You’re still waiting
For your light
To shine again
But you are
Illuminating
Cause the current
Flows through your hands
 
Cause the current
Flows through your hands…
You are electricity
You are electricity

​Seems that I have been held in some dreaming state
A tourist in a waking world, never quite awake
No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber
Until I realized that it was you who held me under
--Florence + The Machine

First written 26/5/15

Is it common to remember one’s childhood with vivid colour? From pitch black to fluorescent pink? Is it strange that my body is no longer the same body – every cell is a descendant of my former self, many generations down the line – yet I can still feel that child’s cold liquid adrenaline seeping through her veins; the seizing of her intestines; the furious thunder of her heart? The pulsing agony in her head and the twisting of her stomach? If I close my eyes, I can still count my ribs in the mirror. Yet these are new eyes – eyes that never took in light those many years ago.

A stranger once told me not to let the past define me. Perhaps I should be reborn every second. I could let go of each new memory as it is created. But what about the smell of dry leaves in the autumn? The spin of the tire swing in the back yard? Playing “ghosts in the graveyard” on that quiet street with other giggling children? Us four girls making up a ridiculous song with four-part harmony? Without my childhood, I am merely a ghost.