A longing for a home you cannot return to, or one that was never yours. Not necessarily a house, but a homely feeling such as love.

Image Credit: 
© 2013 Sam Slattery / Used With Permission

My heart
A car crash dummy

Waiting
For the red hot collision
Of our anger

My lips
Blue
With the bruise of your love
And the cold of your shoulder

Sweet
Boy

Our names leave a
Bitter
Taste in
Each other’s
Mouths

But

Like little birds chirping for nourishment
Neither of us can

Stop

Calling these sad songs of sound
It’s unfruitful
Our mouths are full

But

Our bellies are empty
The beast of our love
Roared
For lack of being heard

Our

Poisonous words
The beak of the buzzard
Pecking
Searching
Craving
For the maggot
Blinding the corpse of the gannet

We
Drank

From each other
Greedily
Our thirst unquenchable
Our stomachs never full enough

More
More
More

Too much
Always too much

Our tastes are not refined
Us
Neither King nor Queen
Us
Neither saint nor sinner
Except
To each other

These marks on my skin read like love letters in your absence

My fingers
Blistered
At your touch

My pride and shame
Crumpled
At your feet

My skin
A canvas
Beneath your hands

Black and blue as the nights sky
We lay against
Eternally entwined

And when we slept
It was peaceful
And that was truly beautiful

Penny Tigerlily Lane is a Margate-based spoken word poet and host of Dead Island Poets Society.

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