Another drunken fumbling piece
of pointless words,
all stitched together
in a row like paper dolls,
linked by thick set arms.
Stuck together – all unwilling-
Ripping themselves apart.
And I swear to God I’d sleep tonight
If you weren’t in my heart.

In my thoughts, my voice, my blood,
In every drop I drink.
Eleven days – gave in again.
It’s time for help, I think.

Lights behind me,
bright like diamonds,
Brilliant, sparkling white.
I’m not the kind of girl to love
Jewels dancing in the night.

I’m not a ‘pink’ girl, ‘make-up’ girl. I’m not
A ‘Bieber fever’ girl.
I’m not the kind of teenage girl
To dream of wedding plans.
I’m not obsessed with rom-coms,
Or ridiculous vampire fiction
where vampires sparkle. No, they
BURN IN THE SUN.
And I hate fashion, dieting, pathetic
Ridiculous, stupendous, ignorant
Mourning over body shape.
I’m…

A little too likely to pour
My heart out on a page,
On a white, typing stage.
But I don’t care
Of what you think.
Because I drink.

So that’s the kind of girl I am.