i was 14 and in love, i was 14 and crying
under a blue trampoline, deciding that day would be a good day
to save my dinner money
for something more important.

i learnt the hard way that stuffing lies behind my ribcage did nothing
but aided them to grow so tall  they fell through
and banged hard,

like a ten man band reminding me
that I have swimming pools full of care to give
and nobody to take it,
I just tie my hair back and take off my shoes,
swallow my heart again and let it soak my eyes.

the pathological drinker by my feet cannot help,
the bulimia in my fingertips does not get it out fast enough
And safety pins are not that safe at all.

these lungs have lost half their capacity in twenty seconds,
while my brain cells thirst
for twice as much,

i have a million problems like these
burrowed in paper cuts, in my bedsprings,
where my chest lay in 189 pieces.

i am small, but i still i told you a secret
that weighed six fat-years more than me.

i was surprised when your leg did not fall off
and throw you fifteen feet backwards,
i was expecting a judgement day,
thunder storms, a heart-theft,
or a few two hundred year old hope-buildings
being demolished down in my bone marrow.

i was expecting a 14 year old me, in love and crying
deciding that day would be a good day
not to live.