Trans(formative)
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We are toxic together,
People say
A broken relationship
Where nothing good can bloom.

I think I am safe
(I am water)
But I am becoming a poisonous well
With his additions.

We skin up together
Shot up
Snort up
Come down.

He comes home with flowers
Not flowers for me
I am not his girl
(He promised)
But flowers for him.

Petals that become drugs
Paper-thin
Dissolving on the tongue
Slipping into the state that is Him.

I know he is not safe
(He is chlorine)
But the heart
She wants what she wants.

We are transformative
I am trans(forming) in front of him
A moth from a cocoon
Wings spread, vulnerable
Waiting to be splattered or spared.

One night, dark,
After a funeral
We wanted to feel alive
In bed, laying side-by-side.

I am clothed
He is not
(He is never)
My top becomes gently unbuttoned.

I smell Bloom on his breath
Through his pores
Infecting me too
(It strikes me we're not table salt]).

And he puts his hand up there
Finds nothing but budding mountains and air
Silently withdraws
Rolls over on his side.

And I realise now
He wanted the me from another time.

But still
I am his Dawn.
And he Blooms for me.

Aching, I curl my fingers into the blanket
And cry for us.

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