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
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
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
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
ACT ONE [two of me, stage blank, white sheet as backdrop] ME ONE: I guess I see it a bit of a shame, that those that work high-stress jobs loose so much of their salary ME TWO [rolls eyes]: Yeah, but who else is going to fund the NHS – ME ONE [snapping]: that’s … Continue reading me 1 – me 2
One year encompassed by my heart strung across Paperchase postcards; a tangible copy of my soul, now sat waiting in your College pigeon-hole. Legs intertwined amongst our make-shift bed of blankets and last night's sweat and lust. With you, lust isn't temporary, lust is sick to my stomach, a comforting nervousness. The way your … Continue reading This Beating Shape