We're Going Up A Hill

We're Going Up A Hill

By Tilly Foulkes

how many times now
have the banks burst
and the water -
so much water -
has tumbled into our dirty hands?

we are going up a hill.

rushing. all the rushing
and the private smiles. The
hidden eyes and the secret
fingers. it was as temporary
as time: and as repetitive. 

rebuild it softly.
take your time.
a void of flowers
and the petals -
how many have been picked
to guess whether you love me or not?

but we are going up the hill.

hours and hours in waiting
looking at danger signs with black eyes:
this was risky. the death date
was cold, callous and coming.

O, tenderness.
please let this end
peacefully. never
have i met
a glowful light like
the shades of blue in airy eyes.

we are getting
up this hill.

We are. the ground
is shooting thorns and we’re falling recklessly
into each other

now is the time we didn’t indulge in.
the date killed itself and turned to mush
and we stomped through
so much Hell to
stare at each other’s mouths, to
hold hands.

there is a top to this hill:

a meadow and a skyful of air
when have i ever met a brisk wind,
an undying landscape,
with anything but disappointment
and knowledge of the end
of overness? Now
it is now. we are on a hill
that we have built and fought up. 

it tastes sweet. my body is hot.
the sun is keeping you warm.
the air is setting me free.


Tilly Foulkes is a 19 year old that dropped out of art school and now has built that as the basis of her personality. she likes looking at the moon, pretending she understands anything at all and Neil Gaiman. you can read her tweets here: @tillyfoulkes, because her online presence other than that is scarce.

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