Chris Girven on Audrey Baldwin’s ‘Avodiant Attachment’
“thank you for giving me meaning”
- Audrey Baldwin
What could be more poetic
than someone who wants your eyes to meet theirs, so badly
a river flows from my shoulders, like jagged rocks
to the mould growing between our feet
my lips are like fish out of water, my hands like corrugated iron
cracking and softening as the weather warms
we’re trees thick with summer air, dancing as our leaves weaken
caress my skin
like the wind brushes the ocean
like lips on fallen fruit
like someone who wants another
so completely
cause the way you look at your body will make me look at mine differently
to HELL with vacant stares
of self destruction
i'm a meal, a whole feast for the senses
i'm as bright as the sun baby
/
they swarm you like ants to honey
tasting your sweet candour
but i can still feel your hands on me
like
dirt after rain
look at my brand new body!!
i’m sheathed in symbolism
but still suffocated with impermanence
like phlegm i can’t cough up
in this damp silence
i second-guess everything
before a sinkhole forms in my chest
swallowing all those youthful promises
i wish we weren't so afraid of talking
but we'll keep leaving each other hanging
until the radio waves are dead
until the urge to say i love you builds like a star
and we explode forever
a million tiny little deaths
my hair trails down to a pool
at the base of my neck
like tangled seaweed
what if i chop it off
what if i chop it all off
what if i rid myself of everything
will you i want me
/
i'll take a picture, so people will know
i once looked this (fucking) hot,
maybe it’ll mean something;
maybe i will mean something
(probably not)
i'd like to think i'm an independent person
but that's a lie
i'm scared of being alone
(everyone is)
peel back the layers of my skin, with your sandpaper fingers and
wash away my vulnerability like it means
nothing
water runs down your chin
to the ocean groaning in my stomach
leaving me raw
so close but yet sooooooo far
we’re parched from too much time
alone
ships could sail over the blue of your eyes, that colour my days like the weather
but my lungs are filling with water and
i can't even manage a word
thick blood and taut skin are said to be auspicious, but they turn to ash beneath the magma of my
duvet
i'll probably regret being so scared of attachment,
but how do i love
when loving
withers
at
my
feet
/
tender skin is ephemeral
i hope i don't waste it
Chris Girven lives in Te Whanganui-a-Tara with their whānau and studies at Te Herenga Waka - Victoria University of Wellington. In addition to writing poetry, Chris loves to sing and dance in their room, dress up (wigs included), go to the Vinnie's (weekly), spend time with loved ones, and frolic about in life's whimsy.
“thank you for giving me meaning”
- Audrey Baldwin
What could be more poetic
than someone who wants your eyes to meet theirs, so badly
a river flows from my shoulders, like jagged rocks
to the mould growing between our feet
my lips are like fish out of water, my hands like corrugated iron
cracking and softening as the weather warms
we’re trees thick with summer air, dancing as our leaves weaken
caress my skin
like the wind brushes the ocean
like lips on fallen fruit
like someone who wants another
so completely
cause the way you look at your body will make me look at mine differently
to HELL with vacant stares
of self destruction
i'm a meal, a whole feast for the senses
i'm as bright as the sun baby
/
they swarm you like ants to honey
tasting your sweet candour
but i can still feel your hands on me
like
dirt after rain
look at my brand new body!!
i’m sheathed in symbolism
but still suffocated with impermanence
like phlegm i can’t cough up
in this damp silence
i second-guess everything
before a sinkhole forms in my chest
swallowing all those youthful promises
i wish we weren't so afraid of talking
but we'll keep leaving each other hanging
until the radio waves are dead
until the urge to say i love you builds like a star
and we explode forever
a million tiny little deaths
my hair trails down to a pool
at the base of my neck
like tangled seaweed
what if i chop it off
what if i chop it all off
what if i rid myself of everything
will you i want me
/
i'll take a picture, so people will know
i once looked this (fucking) hot,
maybe it’ll mean something;
maybe i will mean something
(probably not)
i'd like to think i'm an independent person
but that's a lie
i'm scared of being alone
(everyone is)
peel back the layers of my skin, with your sandpaper fingers and
wash away my vulnerability like it means
nothing
water runs down your chin
to the ocean groaning in my stomach
leaving me raw
so close but yet sooooooo far
we’re parched from too much time
alone
ships could sail over the blue of your eyes, that colour my days like the weather
but my lungs are filling with water and
i can't even manage a word
thick blood and taut skin are said to be auspicious, but they turn to ash beneath the magma of my
duvet
i'll probably regret being so scared of attachment,
but how do i love
when loving
withers
at
my
feet
/
tender skin is ephemeral
i hope i don't waste it
Chris Girven lives in Te Whanganui-a-Tara with their whānau and studies at Te Herenga Waka - Victoria University of Wellington. In addition to writing poetry, Chris loves to sing and dance in their room, dress up (wigs included), go to the Vinnie's (weekly), spend time with loved ones, and frolic about in life's whimsy.
Chris Girven on Audrey Baldwin’s ‘Avodiant Attachment’