Elijah Thakore (Dublin, b. 2004)

A film still of a person wearing black clothes dancing in front of a black armchair in a room with white walls
Elijah Thakore, (Dublin, b. 2004), Captive (film still), 2019. © Elijah ThakoreCredit









How I Feel Your Touch Long After

How I feel your touch long after
The feeling of your hands on me
The feel of your lips on my neck
My body belongs to you

The way I think about you
Right before I fall asleep
And immediately when I wake
I obsess over you

You told me
All the dirty things you wish to do to me
In detail
I entice you

You told me you loved me 
Did you love me as I screamed, begging you to stop?
Did you love me as you tried to get my shorts off?
Did you love me when I said no and you kept going?

You didn’t get too far
Far enough to leave a mark
But not far enough for you to care
I hate you


I Hate the Way You... 

I hate the way you see yourself
I hate the way you look at yourself
I hate how I see the hope die in your eyes
When the scale isn’t low enough
When you’ve had three meals
And extra snacks
Just barely enough 
She thinks the weight is where she lacks

I hate the way you smile even though you’re not happy
I hate how I believe it 
because I know you’re trying
Trying so hard
Harder than you ever have
Just wishing
To Give up

I hate the way you cover your scars
As if they are not the battle marks you bare
The war scars you gained
You are not a victim
But only the greatest of Veterans

I hate how you hide your body
Showing you were ashamed
Maybe not Shame but Fear
I hate the way old men stare 
At those beautiful curves
I hate how they make you into a thing

My perception of you is clear
And I hate how you perceive yourself
You are not less than
You are not too much
You are not a burden 
And certainly not a scruff

I loved you since your first bawl
Seeing those beautiful tears cascade down your
 beautiful face
You are not Alone
Because I am yours
And You
You Are Mine


The Daisy I Picked

The daisy I picked was wilted
She has scars wrapping around her stem
Her droplets cascading in a 
Zig-zag motion
Her chain now disintegrated
Her roots now evacuated

The daisy I picked missed her sunflower
He was called 
the crumpled one
Him with his wrinkled petals
And his seedy front
He made her leaf wiggle
She made his dirt giggle

Their yellow contrasting in harmony
Their stems nourish with each other’s riches
Us Blooming in a Symphony
Her petals on his
His shadow on her
They’re roots now entwined

She showed him how to open up
And he taught her how to stand straight
They now grew together
No longer broken flowers
No longer alone
Now even better

And now, finally, happy
They’re chosen now by others
But no pickings occurred
She, The Daisy, picked the crumpled Sunflower
He, The Sunflower, picked the wilted daisy

They grew larger with each day
Growing from each other
Them spiralling up a strict surface
Finally together, finally Wallflowers


To My Sweet Boy…

To My Sweet Boy…
Each smile is a different
Unique and so rare
All I could do was stare

How do you see me 
How am I as lucky
You to me are perfect
But perfection is the biggest myth
Perfection is an evil name
But no one is to blame

You can see the smoke coming
In there smoking nature
Tightly rolled chimneys at play…
...wondering when he’ll pay

Such a sweet boy
With each 
Or chuckle
Is a blessing
That keeps me guessing

My sweet boy how i see you struggling
How i see you begging for help
With a cut off tongue
How you try and try 
But only hot air comes dry

I am here for you 
My darling boy
Though I tremble like a sprite
You find ways to hold me upright

A golden retriever I say
Laughing away
Seeing your grin
Made me spin

Oh my sweet boy
If you knew about
My genuine intentions
It would lead to even more tension!


To the Love of My Life...

There is this Japanese legend
About how your face is of
Your greatest love
From your past life
My face belongs to you

You are me
And I am

We left birthmarks upon each other 
Of our favourite spots
And one big one
That will connect
With mine

Our noses so different 
Yet both exquisite 
One a button
And the other
It is cuter

You love me the way
 You loved yourself
And I Loved you the way
I loved myself
With passion and guilt

Guilt from our current life
And not from our past
Because we are past lovers 
but now just friends


Typical Love

It was a normal reaction
I see you in after christmas 
Your shirt ironed 
With your jawline in a grin
You looked up at me 
To catch me staring 
You approached with a head held high 
This is not your normal love story

You said you liked my jumper
 My palms were sweating 
My fingers tapping against my legs
I laughed with too much volume
Breathing heavily realising my mistake 
I fled the scene of my crime 
You caught my hand 
but I pulled away 
Again, this is not your normal love story 

You started to text to me day and dawn
I replied to you with hidden smirks upon my face 
You suggested a movie
I just suggested a simple day
 I took a deep breath
Again, This is not your normal love story  

We saw each other more and more
That the lines of your face became ingrained in my sketchbook 
You laughed at my attempts
I just smirked it away
You reach for my hand for the second time 
Again, This is not your normal love story  

Many months pass 
And your face is the one in which I see in my dreams
We are walking home 
The sky is sparkling with far off suns 
Fingers intertwined and locked in place 
 How could I have been so blind 
The mark left on your face didn't go away for weeks
Those dreams now only nightmares 
Those smirks only tears
Our hands now tarnished 
As I said this is not your typical love story.


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