Friday, December 30, 2016

heal/hurt

you leaned over to the passenger seat
and softly pressed your lips against
the healing heart shaped tattoo
below my collarbone

the irony
is not lost on me

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

whips & chains are fun & games
until someone playing gets hurt
a broken heart is collateral damage
of the hopeless romantic pervert


Sunday, December 4, 2016

pastime

2am
text message 
2:01 
reply
2:15
"I'll see you soon"
3:45
goodbye 

I'm not good at this life thing
I'm not good at much at all

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

3am

in my drunken state I contemplate
falling from the storey bridge
a short walk from the too loud noise
a shy away from the too bright lights
escape the too expensive drinks &
two tired eyes
with blurry vision it's harder
to fix my lipstick line
to navigate the crowd
to see more to this life
a cocktail of substances
but I still lack substance
sick in the head right down to the stomach
it's midday the next day
I wake up
I feel fine
but even with 20/20 vision
I can't see a future
past 25

Sunday, November 27, 2016

vices & virtues

crimson & amber & sapphire & violet
colours painted by lust filled violence
thighs & throat & knees & heart
aching reminders in pretty marks
I don't deserve better

Sunday, November 20, 2016

selfless & selfish

everything I did for you
was to benefit
you
time, effort, money
I spent

everything you did for me
was to benefit
yourself
time, effort, money
you saved

you wouldn't know
selflessness
if it slapped you
hard & heavy
in the face

I'd give anything
to be that hand
hard & heavy
selfish, like you
for just one day

hsurc

the second
I heard
your voice
I knew

and when 
you laughed
my heart dropped
fuck, I thought,
I'm screwed 

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

rip

convincing myself
that I am over you
is exhausting
the memories replay
inside my head
the things you said
still haunt me
if you were never mine
you were never my loss
so why am I in mourning?

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

laugh then cry (then laugh again)

I laugh
a lot
admittedly, mostly at my own jokes
at cat videos on the internet
and at inappropriate times
"it's better to laugh than cry"
oh but
I cry
a lot
admittedly, mostly at my own faults
at cat videos on the internet
and at any given time

sometimes
it happens
simultaneously
hot tears melt mascara
salty streaks of black drip to my grin
I'm hurt but I'm giggling I've learnt
to turn this, whatever this is
into a coping mechanism

see, the first funeral I attended was spent sobbing
into my hands
and when I was scolded by teachers for doing wrong
though sincere in my apologies and in my grief
the muscles in my mouth
had other plans
an involuntary smile splits across my face for fuck's sake
an obnoxious grin, bright and beaming
I tend to forget other people
can't hear loud, guttural
internal screaming
dad once told me that light travels faster than sound
the thunder of my laughter rumbles in the sky
embarrassing, unforgiving, shaking the ground

teenage fingers found their way violently
to the back of my throat
digging up the guilt I felt at the size of my waist
I gag and choke
convincing myself that I didn't deserve this space
a hate filled melodramatic hormonal joke
naked and kneeling on the shower floor
tears welling, upset at this self loathing gimmick
lips smiling, amused at the thought of fitting song lyric
I dry heave
heavy
...mom's spaghetti

the first break up I went through was spent pleading into my phone
telling him I loved him, begging him not to go
with a lump in my throat and weight on my chest
I still found the obscure, comical aspect
though goodbye had never felt so wrong on my tongue
I've been taught to curtsy
and smile politely when a show is done
giggling through tears at the call ended tone
the lesson here is that you can't make a person your home
that moment was the last time I made
and had heard him laugh
discovering true pain is felt creating light for others
in the depths of your dark

strangers fingers found their way violently
underneath my short skirt
he handled me carelessly
drunk, cheap, worthless dirt
fear set in rendering me frozen, watching the door being locked behind him
mimicking what I saw when I needed to escape
the situation is something I laughed at and mocked
but for weeks after in crowds, in sleep
I couldn't stop seeing his face
feeling at fault, hands heavy with shame
I owe it to being able to joke, to make fun
for how this was an incident I overcame

sometimes
it happens
simultaneously
laughter erupts in the midst of sobs
crying over tragedy you can't tell me
that spilt milk isn't enough reason
that this isn't funny
that misfortune isn't an opportunity
to make myself the punchline
sometimes
the class clown considers the fall
from the Brisbane story bridge and my fingernails claw
angrily at the words permanently etched above my knee if laughter
is the best medicine then why is my brain still so fucking sick my gp told me
to swallow a pill once every day until I feel a bit better but the cheap wine I down with it tastes so fucking bitter I laugh so hard sometimes I can't fucking breathe
I cry so hard sometimes
it's a struggle just to be

I'm the comedian of my own life, my mistakes
are the quality content I present to an audience of one
humility is hilarity and smiles are free
call this thing, whatever this is
a talent
or maybe some form of art
being able to turn serious moments
into personal jokes
and while my humour is a gift I'm thankful for from my folks
I would prefer I had the ability
in something...
practical
like mathematics
or emotional stability

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

not the first or last/not a waste of time


the one who kissed him
before you
is not your enemy


her pretty eyes and thinner thighs
don't make you any less beautiful
or less worthy of his love


spitting venom in her direction
will only poison yourself
didn't your mother ever tell you
if you don't have anything nice to say
you're only projecting your own insecurities?


imagining the end before it beginning
is only the heart preparing it's fall
wrapping it in thick cotton
will lead to suffocation
breathe


when he tells you what you mean to him
let him speak with conviction
remove your hands from your ears
listen


allow yourself to feel deeply
life is too short
to stay safe
in the shallow


hold each other's hand firm
without crushing bones
tight enough to feel secure
relaxed enough to let go


the death of a flower
doesn't minimise it's beauty in bloom
so why do we think differently
about relationships?


love is never a waste of time
don't determine the importance
by the duration
but by the lessons learned
and how you've grown


your worth and your existence
is not defined
by his love


the one who kisses him
after you
is not your enemy


glaring daggers in their direction
will only deepen your wounds
teach yourself
how to turn your heartbreak
into self preserving gratitude

Monday, May 30, 2016

say my name

"cour, cour, court-"
I hope you choke
as my name
gets caught
in the back
of your throat
"courtney please..."
I hope you plead
as my name
gets caught
as it makes
you bleed
I hope you know
this is just
a joke
you know honey
I won't make
you choke
yes say my name
it tastes only sweet
but you won't get
the chance
or choice
to speak
you know cutie
I won't make
you plead
it's the blade
not me
that made
you bleed

Monday, May 16, 2016

T.A.S.T.E

"make new friends but don't forget the old
because one is silver, the other is gold" but
truth be told you all mean more to me than
some shiny mineral or petty piece of jewellery
you're the air I can breathe with the lungs
I owe to you for keeping me alive while
I awkwardly grew through teenage years
through sobbing tears I continue to shed
you help stabilise the thoughts inside my head
even when I'm stubborn & sometimes struggle
you open your arms wide to comfort & cuddle
I appreciate each & every one of you all the
memories we share & mischief we still get up to
my only hope & wish is that when we're grey & old
our laughter is still loud & as strong as our alcohol
that our bond remains tough & malleable to change
imagining milestones without you is awfully strange
because you are the devil's voice & angel's advice that
I desperately need to help make my decisions for me
whether good or bad or in-between your support system
is a vitality so here's to the girls with beauty & grace
when it comes to friends I have impeccable t.a.s.t.e

oh honey

I've been told many times before to take a pinch of salt to
season the words people try to feed me but it's my fault that
I make the choice I choose to swallow sweetness over savoury
a teaspoon of sugar helps the medicine go down but it's my mistake 
that I consistently make my blood sugar level soar high above the 
ground to level with my head stuck in the sticky clouds but it's only
me to blame and my naivety that because I'm made of honey that
because I believe I wouldn't do this that it can't be done to me that 
because I listen to every sweet nothing whispered warm and softly 
then politely consume the cute candy coated lie labelled 'eat me' 
despite it all coming from people that hurt me I ignore the toothache 
blissfully and continue to trust too easily only to end up wondering
why I'm suffering painful stings from wasps disguised as honey bees 



Sunday, May 15, 2016

I wish I could call


you are a safety blanket my subconscious has created
only ever visiting me in my dreams when something
bad is happening just the other night you were there
running your fingers through my hair I swear I could
feel just how much you once cared I tell you all about
the boy who replaced your tight grip on my heart how
he is now the main inspiration of my art and the pain I
suffer I tell you things I don't even tell my own mother
you were the first person in my life who personified the
word "home" having you in my head makes me feel a little
less alone crying in your arms I lean my ear to your chest
trying my best to hear the beat I once knew the rhythm to
but you're not really here
and I don't know you

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

xo

"Am I important to you?"
"Yes."
"But... do you even like talking to me?"
"Yes."
"Why?" I ask, immediately regretting the question. My hand grips hard on the phone held to my ear, cringing at the obvious insecurity in my voice, hoping he didn't notice.
"Do me a favour..." he requests. Fuck. I've heard this before from others. He's going to tell me to shut up, to stop being so insecure, to get over myself. It's my fault for pushing their patience.
"What?" I ask nervously.
"Laugh," he politely commands.
"What?" I ask again, giggling from both relief and confusion. It's almost like I could hear him smile through the phone, the visual made me giggle louder.
"That's why."

Monday, May 2, 2016

fuck

I'm selfish in that I thought only of myself
that despite my own choice to turn away 
that despite the pain my heart had felt
it hurt more not hearing you ask me to stay

learning to let go/I miss you already

I felt the vines begin to strangle, the thorns stabbing into my sides
ripping this from the roots wasn't a choice, it was critical, essential
I tried my best my hardest to hide the feelings inside but the red
seeped through, I am so fucking see-through, do you see it too?
'it doesn't matter no I don't care' trying to convince myself the
feelings aren't really there but I couldn't ignore the bleeding or
the hurt any longer, my heart crushed, my mind began to wonder
why I was never good enough and why I couldn't be someone else 
awful questions that would drag me down to the insecure self-hating
hell I can't go back I promised myself so this is critical, essential 
to let you go but I do want you to know that despite the messy
beginning and how it had to end, I hope to one day see you again 

Monday, April 11, 2016

(anti) love letter

you will never be to me
what you promised to be
gifting words that weren't your own
you crept into my mind so quietly
my heart is not your holiday home
and you will never be to me
what I convinced myself you were
believing everything you had ever said
my chest became vacant the day you chose her
yet you still won't leave my fucking head

rome wasn't built in a day/work in progress

incense is burning gently on the window sill
the background music, daughter's 'landfill'
an orange glow is filtering through the fence
my mind is stuck, heart broken in past tense
mascara stained cheeks flush patchy red
calm in the room, chaos in my head
a shattered chest makes it hard to breathe
these pieces create me, and who I will be

Sunday, April 10, 2016

affect

"I don't know," she whispers through a slight smirk. Words soft and quiet, almost like a confession she didn't want to admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Her hand sweeps away and tucks strands of bleached damaged hair behind her ear, revealing flushed cheeks; pink and warm, like her. Her softened eyes avert to her hands, picking at stress-bitten fingernails. Distracted in her own thoughts, she goes silent. That's when you lose her, at least for a few seconds. Physically, she's still sitting in the booth, in all of her skirt-wearing marshmallow-scented glory. Her eyes are glazed over, lost in deep thought. Suddenly her smile melts away with a heavy sigh, "I don't know," she repeats. This time louder, more troubled. Rosy cheeks drain to a pale complexion, brows furrow in a dangerous mixture of confusion and frustration. She squeezes and bends her fingers to crack them. The skin straining to a bright white then flooding a crimson shade when released. "There's just, there's something about him," she groans pathetically at her own words, dropping her head into her hands. "I know how I sound," she says, words muffled. After a few seconds, she giggles. Not in a this-is-funny way, but more of a my-life-is-a-joke way. Lifting her head, she makes eye contact. The smile is back, but sadder. Tears are welling but she's fighting against them. She didn't want to cry anymore. There wasn't anything to cry about, really. "I hate when people have that affect, you know?" her voice cracks softly, "I hate that I have an extensive vocabulary, a penchant for writing but no words or sentences I attempt to put together will make anyone understand how and why I feel this way," she sighs quietly, the smirk reappears. Her mind tracing his name. "I can't explain it because... I don't understand either."

Monday, April 4, 2016

you place your worth in something temporary then wonder why your happiness isn't permanent

why I love live music

a concoction of liquor is spilt on the dark timber bench of the divey bar
the surrounding crowd is a diverse mixture of intriguing individuals
a drink clutched in their grip, each with their own styles, quirky mannerisms, pasts & paths
everyone, every person present in this very moment isn't here by chance but choice
an assortment of life grouped together, united tonight for the same reason
movement on the stage shuffles the crowd closer, loud conversation tapers to quiet whispers
for a moment everything is still, the atmosphere heavy with eager anticipation
a throat clears, hands are held high, wood taps like a ritual in a cross... one, two, three
powerful sound deafeningly erupts from the bright lighted focal point of the venue
the plethora of bodies below are suddenly animated excitedly by the familiar noise
lyrics sung soulfully are mirrored back in heartfelt imitation by hundreds of voices
indescribable intense emotion hits deeply within by the words that healed wounds
limbs flail unforgiving & wild to the music, tears well at the sheer energy of it all
a stranger beside offers an empathetic look, comfort gifted in mutual understanding
the music reverberates vehemently, the outside world & problems cease to exist
a moment of tranquillity found in an intimate instrumental resonating deep inside
time appears to simultaneously slow down & move far too fast, the night abruptly ends
ears ringing, feet tapping, the travel back to the house feels a little less like home
days, weeks & months go by, the distinct feeling remains long after the encore

concept

A light gust of wind playfully twirls fallen golden leaves bathed in the pink light of dusk. I watch from the warmth of the inside of my cosy home, hands clutched around a mug of creamed coffee. My gaze averts from the antique window frame to the hot chestnut coloured liquid held close to my chest. It rises and lowers with the rhythm of my gentle, calm breathing. Exhaling deeply I close my eyes, intently listening to the silence. For the first time I feel at ease, content with who and where I am. My mind is rested, my heart healed. Your name finally forgotten.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

you are loved

the gentle wrapping of a tender wound
smooth out the band-aid
soft embrace
"you are okay"

a sombre sigh accepting sad sentiment
the reluctant understanding
warm empathy
"I won't make you stay"

the contagious smile stretching wide
joyful laughter chimes and entwines
golden souls
"you made my day"

a vulnerable comforting delicate caress
 rough insatiable intimacy
confess breathless
"It's you I want anyway"

the compassion clutched hand held hard
tears streak black down cheeks
vital life saving sympathy
"here for you, always"





Then Cry

it's better to laugh than cry
at least that's what I tell myself
at most what I convince everyone else
it's my coping mechanism of choice
manipulating the circumstance to not shed tears
but instead rejoice
at the sad hilarity
the series of unfortunate events we've called life
but funnily enough it feels less like a safety net
and more like a double edged knife because it's what I tell myself
in the midst of darkness humour creates light
although it often shines a little too bright
cruel irony at its worst
and finest
tell me how can you solve a problem when you struggle to see to find it
I lost where the sadness ends and laughter begins
what a mess I have made, look at the predicament I'm in
a pile of puzzle pieces sprawled on the ground
searching with anxious shaking hands no edge to be found
relax it doesn't matter, laugh it off you're the class clown
crack a fitting joke don't fix it if it ain't broke
but that's what it is a flawed sense of hope
a picture is worth a thousand words often misread
when it's an image of a smile people are often mislead
the hidden message ignored, the cheeky cheerful grin adored
they are absolutely enamoured with my silly sense of humour
telling me it's such a useful gift they wish they had
I attempt to explain its not all it seems it's mostly a
depressive destructive contradictive fad
they mock me
in eye rolled disbelief
"but you're constantly laughing,
you can't be sad."

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

When I Grow Up

tiny ringlets of brunette baby hair curl gently around
pink rosy cheeks on soft pretty porcelain skin freckles
speckled dots of evidence of sun drenched exploration
infantile eyes wander the garden every crack and crevice
invites inspiration a sparkle shines mimicking the night
sky young lungs fill with ease the air clear and painless
to breathe juvenile mind untouched naïve imagining all
of the things and people she can one day be baby girl
this world is your playground run wild and free honey
when you grow up tell me what do you want to be believe
nothing is out of your reach the education system is key
sweetheart no pressure but please make a decision right
this second your future is on the line your quality of life
threatened try harder to twist and contort to fit in this door
no no no you're doing it wrong look at that your grades are
poor fistfuls of hair ripped at the roots stressed dull pale flesh
beaten bruised self blame to blame this is all of my fault
sixteen years of age now this isn't a game like before no time
of day to dream any more no night to sleep classes failed rinse
and repeat day in day out the constant weight of defeat crushed
spirit balancing learning life becomes a joke a juggling act trying
too hard to squeeze into their small mould of high As & Bs they
yell 'potential' repetitively gripping my shoulders attempting
to compress and condense me to fit you have potential they
say throwing the word in my face as if it could exist in this
prison restricted to a textbook script inside of their box is the
only place allowed for thought think for yourself but wait not
like that creativity is nice but be smarter at science and math
confidence destroyed insecurity out grew my weight and height
lacking motivation for life the future no longer looking bright
so pray tell little girl what do you want to be if you ever grow
the childlike twenty one year old sighs "I don't fucking know"

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

crushing on you is like

crushing on you is like
a paper cut
from my favourite book
I hurt every time I pick up the paperback from where I last left it
thrown onto the dirty ground
spine bent
pages stained, sprawled
but my hand repeatedly reaches to read the same words over and over
the same sentences strung string around my already constricted chest
I foolishly grip the worn out dog-eared novel hard in my fist as an
attempt to keep it all from falling apart to keep the thin torn text
together to keep it together just fucking keep it together
I can't
tiny tears of salt melt
they fall they drop heavy
stinging the raw wounds
I know I'm only to blame I know this is all of my fault
I know I'm hurting myself a masochistic mess
no there isn't a method to this madness
it's just simple pure unadulterated self indulgence
I suffer to feel to feel something anything everything nothing like this
is as addictive as the storyline spoken with your voice in my mind
the cover wrinkled, worn battle scarred finger tips leave an impression
I highlight the best bits like a shameless open confession
the scent of old novels brings warm familiar comfort yet creates chaos in my head
the chapters are named after all the sweet sinful things you had said
if only I had the idiotic intelligence
the self destructive smarts to burn books
to numb myself
to leave the words on the page
to watch tv instead

Thursday, March 3, 2016

self

hi, wow, it's super nice to meet you
but please before you speak take the
time to read and reread and reread
these terms and conditions
and sign here and here and here
I know your eyes will scan over the fine print
don't make that mistake no, this isn't a contract
merely a disclaimer, or perhaps a warning
that the unassuming 5'3 20 something
in front of you is more than the red lipstick
bleach damaged hair and short skirt
walking mel stringer artwork that
you can see with your own two eyes
I need you to look harder and please
please read carefully

if you flick through the pages mindlessly
you're going to miss the crucial parts all the
in depth gritty details you must know in order
to kind of sorta maybe understand why and where
and who I am even though I don't know either
because I'm painfully indecisive
or am I? I can't decide that's the reason why 
I thrive off impulsive spontaneity but
I haven't done anything that I regret except
letting self hatred and insecurity stain and
steal my teenage years away I swear sometimes
I still feel that poison seep back into my mind
my fingers fight their hardest to write promises
to never hurt the skin on my body again I have
replaced physical self harm by etching cute
and colourful tattoos deep into soft flesh
a lipstick and dagger decorate the side of my leg
like a picket sign of aggressive femininity I like
to convince myself I'm tough even with tears
welling in my eyes threatening the winged lines
sharp enough to kill a man, ten confirmed dead
if only I wasn't so forgiving and damn sensitive
but that's who I am a sweet sour strawberry like
the one on my forearm as bruised and red as the
open broken heart on my right sleeve did I tell you
I'm irresponsible, vulnerable and naïve
have you signed here and here already?

you'll wish the pink glitter ink was erasable like
lead once you get to page 33 detailing just exactly how
difficult it is to be around me please accept my
sincerest apologies in advance I might forget what
you literally just said I can't help the mess brewing in my head
with an imagination so vivid and creative fooling my heart into
crushing on made up ideas of people and places it tends to
blend fiction and reality I try to stay grounded as much
as I can sorry did you say something again?
physical affection is how I show my appreciation I
would prefer to hold your hand and no I won't send
the first message unless I have something to say despite
being easily excitable and overly opinionated I communicate
better with comfortable silence and although you may not
hear from me please keep in mind I will forever and always
care mumma once described me as a mood ring because of
the ever changing shades and colours of my hair but it rung
too true I feel I feel I feel too much of everything all at once
only made more overwhelming with a slight mercurial personality born
on the fifth of the tenth a little quirky INFP libra baby I identify
most with the fictional manic pixie nightmare girl clementine
just a fucked up girl looking for her own peace of mind with
a gift of self-aware sense of humour the talent to giggle at the
misfortune of myself I have been told my laughter is
contagious are you keeping up, are you reading all of this?

scribble your initials and date just on this corner here if
you feel up to the challenge of keeping up with me no
not like trashy reality tv but more like a weird mockumentary
although sometimes flaky and introverted and yes
the number of flaws is of equal or more to the number of
freckles like little stars dotted on my pale skin sky I am
celestial with the warmth of the bright sun a body round
thick fiery full of silly contradictions and misplaced good
intentions making the mistake of seeing only the best in
people because that's what I give to them even if they don't
deserve it like a gift delicately wrapped with a silk ribbon but
I can only promise bad puns and poems and perfume that
will linger for far too long on your clothes and sheets
I see your hand shake a little with apprehension sorry
is this all far too much for a first time meet I guess I just
believe it doesn't hurt to have a little or maybe a lot of
transparency oh and I should also warn you that my scent
doesn't ever really leave and in this time I have already written
in my head a blurb for the story starring you and me and I have
already memorised the curves and lines of your signature to forge
forget I said that last bit
my name is courtney
what's yours?



torn between
what is right
and
what I want

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Fate?

do you ever think about the thin red string
we both tied around our adolescent ankles
knotted by inexperienced hands and whispered promises
are you as curious as I am to follow it?
but what would happened if we meet again?

would we suffer through painful small talk
like how my day was just fine and how
your career is still adding scars to the hands that
shaking and nervous once held mine
would we stand in awkward silence or would it
feel as familiar as the four walls of my bedroom
that are stained with tears and every memory
every hug and laughter and 'I love you'
every eye roll and bicker and 'don't touch me'
or would it feel slightly different like how
the furniture placement isn't what you'd remember
my hair colour lighter and face relaxed
but I wouldn't care to talk about the weather
my lips would be impatient and trembling to
spill in great depth everything that happened
after the day you left
like how I finally achieved the things you said I would
and that I have done things I swore I wouldn't
physically I'm not much different but boy, I've changed
I would word vomit everything I ever wanted to say
except I wouldn't tell you that every single time
something happened you were the first in mind
that the death of a pet was the day I almost called
and the date my nephew was born is the same
as your anniversary
would you smile and tell me
how much happier she makes you?

would I be able to speak at all
or would you just sneer in disgust
at the person who trapped you for far too long
in a relationship that did more harm than the cigarettes
you were so persistent you never touched
and I tried so hard to believe
even when your words
were exhaled with thick smoke
did this begin to feel like a heavy chain
like a life sentence you never asked for
like a burden, an anchor in the shape
of the girl you were in love with
I cried the day I felt the need to tighten the string
too blind to see it had cut your blood circulation
I promise my intention was to never hurt you I
only wanted to keep you where I thought
you were supposed to be
there aren't enough words to express
the remorse and guilt for being
part of the reason
you found it so hard to breathe

my legs twitch eager to follow it
because it's sometimes too difficult to accept
that I will never be able to ask the questions
which fill my chest and scratch at my throat
desperately trying to escape for the answers
I know you won't have and
you won't be able see the faint bruises on
my neck from every time I have roped
the red string like a makeshift noose
woven with broken promises in hope
for this all to just fucking end
and yes there still are times I want to spit poison
to burn you with angry words so that
you would feel a slither of the pain
you singlehandedly put me through
but more often I wish I had
the chance to apologise
to you, my first love, my best friend
to myself
I guess this is why it's almost like
I'm trying to write you back into existence
because if I follow the red string
still cutting into my flesh
my heart knows I will only find
the lonely frayed end

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Cotton Candy

I am cotton candy

in the way I melt under his tongue 

like a warm sacrificial sweetness

in the way that I am a novelty treat

only an occasional indulgence 

consumed for his amusement

because I quickly become too much

he decides to cut sugar

And I am cotton candy

in the way I melt to his hands

like a sticky relentless reminder

in the way of a grainy texture

his mouth can’t quite get rid of

he licks the remainder off his lips

because others aren't as sweet

he still craves me

But I am cotton candy
in the way that I am soft
like a pink spineless cloud
in the way that I am spun
with misplaced good intentions
both not enough and too much
because I let him
he consumes me

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

I Welcome Heartbreak

They tell me to protect myself
and to learn from my mistakes
my lips form a shy smile
I whisper "I welcome heartbreak"

Their brows furrow with confusion
because they struggle to see
over the high brick walls they built
cemented by fear and insecurity

They tell me that I'm silly, that I'm naïve
that I deserve the scars decorating my chest
I trace them softly with a light touch
I say "I know I deserve only the best"

Their eyes squint hard in mockery
because they simply cannot comprehend
with their rough, hardened exterior
even the softest souls are able to mend

I wear my heart open on my sleeve
view the world with a rose tinted sight
I feel too much, hurt often and bruise easily
but I will always choose fight over flight

They swear the rigid armour they created
protects their chest from feeling ache
all I see is a sad shell of themselves
and a heart they have chosen to forsake

I tell them that they can and will survive
if only they could soften and with a little shove
their walls will finally fall and they will know
that life is meaningless if you don't welcome love

Sunday, January 17, 2016

Tahlia


stubborn in the way your hand rests on your hip
baby blue eyes roll in a sassy response
"yeah, okay, whatever" you quip
a queen who knows what she wants
and demands it with a hair flip

wisdom in the way you learn from mistakes
your finger stuck in a drill bit only twice
or avoiding class with 'Siberian cakes'
or how people look to you for advice
helping them through grammar and heartbreaks

funny in the way I laugh til I hurt
encouraging our behaviour with tequila shots
remember that time the soccer post caught your shirt
and when you looked at me and said "have you seen Robots?"
never forget our pizza of half breakfast and dessert

beauty in the way you're oh so easy on the eye
a gorgeous smile and mermaid long hair
not just physical, beauty is what you personify 
sometimes I catch myself in awe and stare
graceful and lovely, you don't even try

strength in the way that you are a fighter 
overcoming life's trials and tribulations
likening your fierceness to that of a resilient tiger
you somehow make it through those sitcom-like situations
remaining a delicate sunflower who still makes life so much brighter

love in the way that you just exist
our daughter, our sister, our best friend
you are not far, but far enough to miss
your presence in my life has been a godsend
I can't wait to visit you and greet you with a big kiss




A silly, inside joke ridden poem for my friend Tahlia ♥

Friday, January 15, 2016

Yes Baby

yes,
he will call you baby
his voice warm like home
softly melting in your chest
wrapping thick cotton over cold shoulders
his vocal embrace of sweet promises 
your body aching and craving 
an innocent gasp escapes your lips
a white flag, a breathless surrender

yes,
he will call you baby
his tongue hot like lust
hand gripped tightly on your throat 
clawing delicate layers from inviting limbs
his physical embrace of sinful deceit
your body aching and craving
a guilty gasp escapes your lips
the white flag, the breathless surrender 

no,

baby,

he won't call you

Monday, January 4, 2016

The Five Stages of Grieving ♥ First Love

The funeral was held in my bedroom for months on end but the only body buried was mine in between cold sheets, foolishly hoping for his familiar warmth. There were no self-help booklets to prepare me to mourn the loss of someone who didn't die but instead chose to leave...

Denial first clawed at my chest and punctured my lungs when he confessed he didn't love me any more. Rapid hyperventilating matched my panicked heartbeat and I could barely speak the words to plead for him to not go. I apologised profusely with a shaky voice hoping it would have enough strength to make him stay because you can't hold the person you love most in your tight embrace over a fucking phone call. His hollow excuses still added to the weight of guilt on my chest that cracked and concaved my aching ribs.

Those sweet, innocent butterflies that emerged from the pit of my stomach at the awkward beginning of our juvenile love dropped dead. Raging, unforgiving hornets had now begun attacking at the softness. Red hot anger pulsing through my veins gave me the strength to tear down his photos but the fierce screams slowly melted into pathetic sobs. My body gave in and collapsed when my mind realised I can't throw out the memories that were imprinted in my head. How can his lips intimately kiss away each and every one of my tender insecurities, only to whisper a few words that reopened every single wound he ever helped heal? 

Each "what if" plagued my mind like a sickening game of 21 questions. There was no answers, no winning, no end to the constant bargaining with this heartache. Sleep no longer became a form of escapism, it became a mental trap. Dreams taunted and teased, dangling hope in front of me - replaying memories and hypothetical situations like a mirage of water. Dehydrated and desperate, I did everything I could to chase and clutch at them. Scrapes and bruises decorated my knees as the tear soaked tee clung to my exhausted body, physically drained from the emotional hurt. His shirt no longer held his scent, his presence no longer felt. He would still be here if only I was better, thinner, prettier. If only, if only, if only.

My feet dragged heavy on the floor despite the hollowness inside. A constant grey smog clouded and imprisoned my entire being. My throat choked and gagged on the pleas of help I so desperately wanted to scream out loud. Constantly questioning the point of living if I didn't actually feel alive. Just a pathetic, dull shadow of myself wandering aimlessly. At times, a hopeful light would filter through and begin to guide a way out... but depression is relentless and possessive. You can't escape so easily.

Then suddenly a wave of acceptance washed over me. Overwhelmed, I panicked and began to drown.

He was gone. I was still here. He was gone...

and...

it was okay.

Time, although slow and painful, helped heal the wound he left on my chest. The scar will remain as a reminder to my heart of the love it got to experience and the heart ache it was able to learn from. I found the strength and ability to turn my longing into gratitude. Some days my tongue will forget his name. Some days my eyes will search for him in a crowd.

But I no longer craved his warmth.

Finally,

breathing became easier.

My insides no longer bled,

the storm in my head calmed.

I got out of bed.


Just say "fuck the lemons" and bail

Someone asked me what my New Years resolutions are for 2016 and my eyes rolled so far and hard that I travelled back in time and relived the memories of my resolution-less 2015.

Although to be brutally honest, if it wasn't for social media I wouldn't be able to recall half of what had happened in the past year. And I can't, because I had deleted my original Facebook. So the beginning of the year is a real blur but I do know that I began the year with amazing cyclamen coloured hair (cheers Instagram!). I want to blame the bleach for the state of my brain but we all know that's a lousy cop out.

2015 was the year of spontaneity. The year of "why the fuck not?" The year of new experiences. The year of living life for myself. I had done so many things I would have never given a second thought to before. Things that made me uncomfortable and vulnerable. Things I don't regret for one second. 
 
The person I was two years ago would be both mortified and in awe at who I am now. I am grateful for every amazing and heartbreaking experience because it has helped me learn a little bit more about the world around me and who I am. 
 
I've been told that my 20s will consist of some of the best years of my life. I truly believe that now. As much as I can be a morbid, nihilist, negative Nancy at times... I am so excited to see what and who this year will bring. At the risk of sounding like a shitty inspirational speaker who has no fucking clue at what they're talking about (I really don't) - life is what you make it. It really is. Until you want to be a cat and people are like "Courtney that's not possible", "that's more than one shot", "you're too drunk", "put your clothes back on and stop dancing on the table why are you sobbing while twerking Courtney stop" blah blah blah.

This past year, most importantly, bonds with people in my life have strengthened considerably. Through the darkest days this year has bestowed upon me, they have kept me grounded and reminded me that I am loved. Their presence has been vital to my well being and I cannot thank them enough. They have held me through tequila shots, fits of laughter, ugly sobbing and everything in between. I guess you could say I am... hashtag blessed.

While I don't necessarily have resolutions, I do have hopes for 2016. I hope to continue being spontaneous and more opportunistic. I hope to discover what I want to do with my life career wise (groan). I hope to eat so much sushi that I'm admitted to hospital for rice poisoning - look yeah, I don't know if that's a thing but... challenge accepted. I hope to travel and have more adventures! I hope to pet more cats and stroke more beards. I hope to meet new, amazing people who will bring inspiration and love. I hope my skin is covered in cute tattoos and my hair is as colourful as ever. I hope to spread positivity and help people! I hope to create more and write shitty blog posts less. 

I hope 2016 brings love, laughter and life lessons that will help me continue to grow as a person. 

I also hope to get that growth spurt I was promised 6 years ago.

I genuinely hope that the person is reading this finds the strength to overcome any battles they are dealing with or may face. I hope you find peace and happiness within yourself. I hope you hold hands and kiss a lot of cute people. I hope you try your best to be kind and I hope people are kind in return. I hope you get what you need in 2016.

Yours truly,
Courtney xo

EDIT: I found an old blog post for 2015 - apparently I did, kind of, make a list of resolutions or whatever:

I've never been one for new year resolutions, goals or being motivated for more than two seconds but this year I am turning 21 (yuck) and it's time to get stheriousth. Sorta. You still have to have fun, right? Right. Good. Here are some things I'd like to work on or do or horribly fail at:

♥ Travel! Anywhere! By plane! I have never actually been on a plane I'm the most boring person you could ever meet. I'd love to go to LA but let's take baby steps. Baby flights.
I did get on a plane! All by myself to meet someone for the first time! GO me.

♥ Remember to put the lids back on my frickin makeup. Failed.

♥ Be more optimistic!! Stop being a pessimistic bitch, Courtney. That was cool in 2009. Emo days are ovah. Yes! I am tons more optimistic now. Also, shut up 2014 Courtney. Emo days will never be over. This isn't a phase - this is who you truly are.

♥ Hug more. There is never enough hugs. I definitely did hug more! I will continue to hug more! Fuck yeah hugs!!

♥ Probably stop with the cheeseburgers?? (If I'm going to horrible fail at any of these this will be the first.) Yeah we all know I failed this 100 times over - but I did join the gym and start PT sessions! Which... may have stopped over the Christmas break...

♥ Save money!! HAHAHAHAHA

♥ Spend more time with friends and family! Tick!

♥ Tell those people that I love them!! Double tick!!

♥ Get my shit together! HAHAHAHAHA

♥ Get a tattoo!! Fuck that. I got three!

♥ Take opportunities and do things even if they literally scare the shit out of me!!! (Don't think too hard about that image!!! Sorry not sorry.) YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

♥ Remind myself everyday that life is way too short not to be who I want to be. Every day reminder!

♥ Clean my room. HAHAHAHAHA