whatever this is - by Laylah Hough

Whatever this is…..

Dark skies blend plum purples with warm browns
Framing you like a gothic, glamorous witch-about-town
Your chaotic-good character alignment
[As you insist you’re definitely not violent] Borders on neutral, regarding rain-ravaged hair
Side effect of the storm-soaked summer air
I’d tell you I think you’re beautiful
Though you probably already know that
I don’t wish to flap, fluster, or flatter
Smother with scattered sweet nothings
Like molecules of meaningless matter
You’re far more than a set of archetypes
The hyped up sentiments of this pathetic fangirl
Fond of faeries and flowery aesthetics
Victim of magical thinking and irrational assumptions
Lacking the gumption to say very much at all
Sometimes stopping, drowning, falling
When my eyes meet yours
Thinking surely it must break natural laws
For you to notice such a drab duckling
Sinking slowly among swans
Quietly quacking quick-fire puns
[You might love dragons, but please don’t let me drag on] Endearing exclamations warming as their fiery breath
Cheer me on to face introspective icy depths
Become adept at being better and brighter
Eventually develop the spine, the gall
To replace my candid, cursive scrawl
With bold unapologetic capitals
    HERE I AM,
            AND SELF HATE

Hate which wavers, varies, fluctuates
Ingrained scathing remarks about my impure state
Choosing for myself, resisting notions of fate
His predilection for pious perfection-
Presumed, pre-determined connections
Clarifying what is and isn’t consent
Sent him plummeting back to Earth
Scraping away at the dirt he left behind
I wondered what you’d possibly find in
Investing time, energy and kindness
In my nauseatingly neurotic, noisy mind
Somehow, the sunny way you smile at me
The way I[attempt to] smile at you
Tells me nerves are just a recreational hazard
Like a cell membrane, with its permeable barrier
Remaining, of course, but sometimes receding
Letting us take the lead-
The first night we found ourselves leaning in
Was starry and surreal, like a scene from REM sleep
Perhaps a bogus brain-sparkle narrative
Lasting at least an hour or so now
From when arms held and lips first met
Anxiety died a blissful, temporary death
With hand holding, hair stroking and shallow breaths
Breaking into bashful eye gazing and Eskimo kisses
My mouth pales into insignificance against yours
Marking me like the heart rate which soars
Having never thought someone filled with bile and poison
Could potentially love and be loved?
[If this is a dream- don’t wake me up] Since then I’ve been grappling-
With a colourful internal mind map
To capture, highlight and stitch together
A coherent response to recent events
Creating a emotional thematic analysis
Expressing thanks without visually disintegrating
In the interest of being transparent and reflexive
    Overall, I can conclude-
      Whatever this is-
        I really, really like it.

By Laylah Hough