for the time being

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.

Hands typing on type-writer

They Told Us

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

A Face

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

Not Custard

 1) I used to avoid yellow, my grandma said it would wash me out. Pale skin and lemon is never okay. I had no choice when secondary school meant yellow polo shirts against my newly bleached hair. I was a walking canary.   2) My grandad was awarded the tallest sunflower of our town. Its … Continue reading Not Custard

In This Foreign Space

With the aid of Google Maps, hand in hand we walk as obscenely clueless tourists down narrow streets. I had been before, you had not. I felt it my duty to make it worth the hype I had prized it.   Admist the crowds You keep me anchored Like it’s only the two of us … Continue reading In This Foreign Space