Sickgirl

everything I write
is pitiful and so bland.
I can't bear it now,

and I am so sick of these
thoughts, this sad pale skin should be
sloughed so I can see

my bones and the dark
bitter little creature that
is tugging on my

heart. thoroughbred, it
pounds hard and it is enough
to paralyse me.

I am a selkie
without her precious grey pelt,
I am in mourning

for my previous
life. my marrow is being
gnawed. I want to sleep

in the shadow of
the cathedral, amongst
victorian bones.

the mouths I have kissed
do not remember me, but
each had burnt me raw

and the boy with the
scarred tongue has left me branded.
I am still foolish.

I am a ghost girl
with a living heartbeat, and
one foot in a grave.