And you feel like home, like the smell of Mum’s cooking Or my Dad using too much garlic in his risotto For You linger longer than the rest Your scent sleeps on my scarf marks my skin with an aroma unknown to anyone else but me Your touch like a spark A shock against … Continue reading Aroma Unknown
The tip of your finger, your tongue, your eyelash outlines my silhouette in semi-permanent stain. I knew from the first touch you were, we were only temporary. Only. Not wholly. For the time being. But your mouth imprints my own and for something half-hearted and incomplete, you've made a home out of me.
Your eyes sparkle more than they used to More than I noticed before at least and I'm unsure if the glisten under the light naturally and I was just blind to it. Or if it's my presence that makes your irises iridescent only when I catch your gaze. What a privilege. And when you … Continue reading Undoing
Perhaps the most intimate thing isn't letting someone see (be within) your body but letting them know your mind
My heart is so big you could cut it, knife and fork, and share it with the street. Share. I share my skin, my soul, my shelter with another and they claim it as their own. Then return it when it doesn’t quite fit right, isn’t what they’re after, change their mind. Do they have … Continue reading Return It
They told us we were special, Each gift-wrapped like collectables, scraping ink into papers on tables with cries for help engraved into tainted wood. They told us we had talent, From colouring inside the lines, bringing outlines to life, with rainbows and felt-tips, tip-toeing across the blank space Like crowds, protesting, chaos over what … Continue reading They Told Us
Isn’t it bizarre how I’ll see my reflection ten years later and desperately crave, miss, wish, hiss for the face that once was. When right now I pull it a part I think and yearn for the future I worry about what’s to come and picture myself in pictures captured with my loved ones … Continue reading A Face