poetry

Pushin’ Up Daisies

remember, remember,
darling girl,
how we used to get so high
that we’d forget how words work?
when we’d skip class and run fast
to the nearest park
and sit for so many hours
side by side
making crowns out of pretty little flowers
until the sky grew cold and dark;

we built a cemetery for the fairies,
for all the nymphs and fallen pixies
who lived and played and died without names,
throwing bluebells on their tiny shallow graves
and blowing dandelion seeds
up into the pallid, omniscient cherry blossom trees,
willing to witness some dire catastrophe unfold
or see a ten-pound note fall from the sky
or find a gram of unknown powder
in a wrap upon the floor;
but this time
you wished for ice-cream
and I wished for sanity
but we always wanted more;

we shared the strangest friendship,
darling girl,
made good through bizarre displays
of varying degrees of crazy,
the mutual need for affirmation,
and the traditional teenage taste for rebellion
and adventures bearing stories that are
worthy of telling the grandchildren
(despite the fact we thought we’d never
make it to twenty-one)
but there was never anything wrong
with you,
darling,
was there?

I remember how you cried when your doctor
saw through your lies,
through your many attempts
to convince him that you had ADD,
how you cried when the child psychologist
diagnosed you as a spoilt little madam,
a bratty, self-absorbed little shit
who had a loving, wealthy family
but who threw tantrums to rival any toddler –
you were jealous of me
and my perpetual sadness
and my prozac and problems
and my grotesque, overflowing madness
where your life was pretty perfect;

you wished to be insane
to have an excuse for acting like a princess
to have an excuse for bunking off school
to have an excuse for breaking the law
but I would’ve swapped brains with you
any day. I bet you count your blessings
nowadays but I’ve heard that you are
still a fucking nightmare anyway;

but there we were
making bracelets after dark
in that shitty little park,
and so we’d stay until
there were no more flowers left to pick
and by the time the autumn had come around
our love lay crunched and broken
amongst the orange leaves
lying, dying, on the sodden ground;

who knew, darling girl,
who knew? that we were fragile too?
we were unstoppable
untouchable
unforgivable
once upon a time,
me and you against the world,
but even the brightest stars
someday have to die;

my blood is still within in your pretty veins
and your blood still swims in mine,
and I still have the scars from when
we were waiting outside a gig
down Chalk Farm that time,
playing noughts and crosses
on my forearm
with a penknife:
I think that I will always love you

our sisterhood fell apart as easily
as those daisy chains we used to make –
I guess even the most naive and beautiful connections
can be the simplest ones to break


Originally posted on themagicblackbook 23.06.16

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5 thoughts on “Pushin’ Up Daisies

  1. thefeatheredsleep says:

    Girl, you are one of my short-list favorite modern poets. That’s SO DAMN RARE. Your writing gets me angry that I can’t reach your heights, you have talent without trying, you ooze it. Not only are you an exquisite writer but you’re a natural observer and you just SAY what needs to be SAID. I absolutely, absolutely (fuck why aren’t there more words when you feel this way??) LOVE your writing

    Like

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