blue butterfly – homesick

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You are silent.

Ruby lips to stomach,

a curved grin, you disappear

between my thighs.

The clock ticks.

 

We talked, we agreed,

and now I’m homesick

for a place that doesn’t exist.

Take it all, every last bit

that’s fighting,

don’t even look back.

 

 

I want you to see

my bones

that touched you,

that lay next to you.

 

I want to take

that piece of heart

that beats for you,

scrape away the skin

that you touched.

 

I want to cut off

the hair that you entangled your fingers in.

I want to grow a new body

that you have never touched.

 

I want to push out

those feelings I had,

I want to stop remembering

how you looked at me

and the feeling

of skin against skin.

 

I want it to rain

and wash away

every bit of you that is left.

I want it to cleanse me

of your touch,

of the way your mouth brushes

against mine

with your hot slick breath.

 

I want to be sick.

I want to throw this up

and get you out

out of me,

out from inside of me,

out from every part of me

that you held.

 

People will ask,

and I will feel so ashamed.

 

I can still feel you here.

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Another 25 Facts About Me

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Considering the last 25 Facts blog post went down so well, I thought I would do another… just in case you don’t know me well enough already! So here are another 25 facts about me.

  • My second novel is titled Losing Lola and it’s a contemporary murder mystery.
  • My Ilvermorny house is Horned Serpent.
  • I try my hardest to buy cruelty free products where possible. Boots (UK) own-brand products are always affordable and good quality, as are Superdrug.
  • My wand is 10 and three quarter inches, made from Willow with a Unicorn Hair core.
  • I enjoy reading physical books and eBooks. Some readers seem to prefer one or the other, but I like both.
  • I am currently learning French on Duolingo (as part of my Promises and Wishes list), and am currently 30% fluent.
  • A portion of the books I own I bought whilst I was travelling on my gap year, so I have the international copies instead of the UK editions.
  • I adore all three of Charlie Simpson’s solo albums (Young Pilgrim, Long Road Home and Little Hands), and I never get tired of listening to them.
  • Whenever I travel to a new country, I try to buy a postcard as a memento.
  • I love listening to audio-books, namely the Chronicles of Narnia series and the Harry Potter series.
  • I have a warm skin tone and I look best in bright, crisp and clear colours.
  • I have written two books and I have vague outlines for at least another two, one of which I hope to write this November during NaNoWriMo.
  • Some other series that I love are The Lunar Chronicles, The Divergent Series, The Hunger Games and The Heather Wells Mysteries.
  • I have a passion for photography and usually take pictures on my phone when the inspiration strikes.
  • I love writing letters to people and have pen-pals who I write to regularly.
  • I have a very small, very faint birthmark in the shape of a diamond on my stomach.
  • Before I was born and all throughout my life, my nickname has been Hubble.
  • Fall Out Boy’s From Under the Cork Tree is one of my favourite albums of all time. It reminds me of when I began to develop my own music tastes.
  • This year, one of my dreams, that Busted would get back together and reunite on stage, was completed. My friend Rob and I saw it happen with our very own eyes at Wembley Arena.
  • Another of my favourite albums is Paramore’s Brand New Eyes. It was the first time someone had perfectly summed up the angst I felt about the world. I won’t ever forget how free it made me feel.
  • I love to draw, and often draw costumes, blueprints and ideas for my books.
  • I recently got another tattoo on my wrist of the letter H in my father’s handwriting. Those who know me well will know the significance.
  • The series I want to start soon are the Name of the Star series by Maureen Johnson, the Throne of Glass series by Sarah J Maas, and the Comoran Strike series by JK Rowling.
  • I really love reading and watching non-fiction pieces on True Crime.
  • I am participating in the 2016 Classics Challenge and have currently read 12.

So that’s all for my latest 25 facts about me. Let me know in the comments section if you want to see more of these types of posts and whether you share facts in common with me!

blue butterfly – I saw you

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You were wearing that blazer,

the one we bought together.

I was comforted to know

that there is still a part of me

that lingers with you,

that covers your back

like my hands used to.

 

I did not lose my appetite

like I thought I would.

I did not throw up,

like I had wished to

for so long

to get rid of what was left of you.

 

You sat on a bench,

head bent,

your fringe, wind-swept,

your mind absent.

You did not see me,

but I saw you.

I saw you today.

It was the first time.

blue butterfly – magpie

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My sorrowful Magpie

flies through the fields, you

sewed with apple tree seeds

in our incestual

slumber, we mixed blood

and spunk

inside a mixing bowl, with handles

made from my shattered spine.

I lay on the left side

of my nursing pillow

waiting for your butterfly lashes

to kiss my cheeks.

 

Maybe it’s time to live,

it hurt just as much,

if not more

than all of the other times before,

and I’m sick of all these changes.

blue butterfly – something old

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We were married once

in an old, broken down church, I wore white

with lace, we spent our vows trying

to convince each other why

we were perfect.

 

I wore white, the colour of the grave

of my father, who could never walk me down the aisle

so I walked myself on his bones

as we tried

but we were in an old, broken down church

and we were married once.

blue butterfly – my words are worth

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I can only plagiarise the prophets

I see in the dark.

Dig up their bones and replace them

With my own.

Gaining no comfort in my eternal search

For what masquerades as cheap clichés.

 

I find: complete

Stripped back,

and choose the same deck of spades,

dragging my fingers through the tar

and decorate caves with Queens.

Parchment curls at my edges,

in the virginal white sheets that mask it’s sins.

My quill is loaded.

blue butterfly – the wallflower

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She wrote love letters to the monsters under the bed

Made of papier-mâché barricades

And arranging bear bones into swords.

 

She was alive alive alive and they were dead.

Some inside the trinket box in the shape of an elephant

And the rest in the waste basket case, alone

 

She was always alone, picking roses from next door

And pressing them between pages of hardback books

Snapping the stalk in half and watching the sap ooze

Onto the words and smudging them, watching the ink run.