Mimi Bakx
A Memory of Us
Unknown Territories
Things Left Unsaid
Interactive Poetry
My First Memory
DIY Neruda
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They don't tell you that
it doens't get better, but it changes
grief is harder when they're still alive
youth is only adulthood without experience
it's easier to speak than to think about it
A mellow wind
The glowing heat
Phanthom sunlight
Lost language
weaves through
the heaviness of your words
the echo of the city
the fiction of others
a lie written in cursive
As you
live between parentheses
count the freckles on your body
let the cold air soothe you
stand bairfoot in the shadow
You remember
the blue of the fridge light
the sound of candle light
the chalk on the road
a lonely bag in a tree
but not
how you felt at the end of the arguement
the way they whispered goodbye
how they begged you not to go
when you were supposed to leave
Alphabets
Violent colours
Lost sediments
Grey areas
are careful not to
unseal the vacuum you created around yourself
deceive you in a language you do not understand
ask you when autumn ends
search for a house in the rain
Thoughts linger between
cigarette smoke
cheap tv
cold coffee
an off licence
and
leaving in the middle of the night
finding shelter from the wind
an attempt to tell another lie
remembering how the year has gone
Years of
borrowed moments
distant memories
open doors
intuition
have turned into
sunbleached terracotta
an erased hard drive
a jigsaw from a charity shop
the colour of the weather
You no longer
mention their name at midnight
live on the verge of youthfulness
search for a plot
use the seasons as an excuse for change