Poetry by Bridget Epitropakis | Photo taken by Bridget Epitropakis of work by Tracy Emin
1.
Everything is rose-colored until you fall in love
then it’s red
deep burning bleeding red
and you can’t imagine their face in your head
without getting burned
every conversation
is a foot fallen into quick sand
waiting waiting waiting for them to swallow you whole
only to find they don’t much like the way you taste
every comment is negatively charged each syllable loaded
you: ‘hi’ (am I beautiful darling did you miss me
while you were asleep
did waking feel like christmas because it meant
you got to see me)
the only other: ‘hi’ (I’ve thought of nothing but the unique creak of
the bedroom door as you and only you leave it sounds like
everything turning
a shade duller)
a terse word is a subtle knife slipped under your shirt cutting
slight enough to stain the front light pink
the boat not rocking but slowly sinking
you can feel your feet get wet but it’s so uncouth
to be the first to panic
so let’s do this battle of the wills you gracefully select your weapon
you: apathy (I can’t rid my pillow of the scent of your skin)
the only other: indifference (I hear your name and every hair
on my neck screams
with some strange mixture of agony and delight)
and then the thought of them sobbing silently at the edge
of their bed
split like ice down the middle at an acidic
axe-tipped word you said
is the only fantasy you have left
(you crave any piece of them even the salty sour parts anything
to quench the thirst)
so one night on their front steps
you: I just don’t see the point anymore every time
it ends like this
(but I still feel so much when we kiss)
the only other: I don’t know what you want me to say
(tell me tell me tell me whatever you want please place the right
words in my mouth)
and then their figure silhouetted in the yellow porch light
you: I’m done (begmetostaybegmetostaybegmetostaybegmetostay)
the only other: great, me too. (nononononononononononono
every inch
of my house breathes of you)
all you can hope is all that night
they didn’t sleep much either.
3.
"has it broken you down yet"
in various places like an underwater trench
I'm obsessed with this song coming through your car radio
in the rain on the way to a place neither of us will want to enter
because it’s so comfortable in this air conditioned car, our bodies plastered to the seats
that’s atmosphere
has it broken you down and filled you with new colours yet
I broke through the spine of you, scalpel’d out a good looking piece
can I keep it
you don’t even want it
you just don't want me to have it
please don't talk to me I don't care I’ll be up all night if you need
someone to share your nightmare with
lock me out of your room
I want to stand in a desert as the car speeds away
spiraling off into scary comfortable nighttime
I want to remind you it’ll always be like this,
you chasing exhaust filling your mouth
somebody in the front seat wiping tears from their eyes
like rain from a quick-wicking jacket
spilling down a tarp
onto someone else’s head
crowded bus, lonely walk home
I miss your car radio
you don’t miss me
I don’t even remember who I’m talking about anymore
5.
I don't like being addicted to people
of all things I think it’s the most tumultuous
like now, having to look at you
and wonder if you’re happy or just look happy hurts my stomach
and will continue to do so until I’m home in my bed
staring at the ceiling
wondering if your stomach hurts over me too
or if it hurts over Steven Morterelli
my stomach will burn all night
I like the way the moon stretches over it like a blanket
sometimes I get so used to the burn I forget it’s there
7.
He has a smile like a horse race and
I bet all my money on knowing I’ll lose
but wow it feels good to almost win
I want there to be a break in the moment where I realize
why I’m there and you realize why you asked me over
because something about this must make you feel really good
since it’s obvious you can’t stop.
Bridget Epitropakis is a 22 year old writer from Sydney, Australia. She has written under various pseudonyms and even written some shit in her actual name. She does not think of you at all. Follow her on Tumblr and on Instagram @hausofbridge.