Let this ending fade
like the drunken memory it should have been;
Its grip on my flesh tearing gaping wounds,
venom trickling,
distant laughter.
A memory of sunlight
on sawdust
on fair skin;
The scent of warm hay
and broken wheels
and blistered heels from running

Turn back:
Gather me in your arms,
Speak of destiny and starlight
and all the ways you’ll break my heart.


I crave you like a kitten for her mother’s milk.
You, the image of the self I’ll never be;
The lover I’ll never have.
You, the darkness I long to get lost in,
hopelessly lost,
and wake a year from now
on foreign soil
with unkempt hair and dirty skin.
You, the island on which I will wash up time after time, knowing there is no food to be had,
only bittersweet nectar and starlight
and the sound of the ocean.

My masochistic heart will forge perfection and fall on it,
glad of the opportunity to die by its blade.


Your knee beside mine,
tanned and warm,
the sun in you
beside my winter soul.
Laughter falls from you like autumn leaves,
and falls from me like snow,
the ice of my season
thawing against yours.
I remember the elation:
How the summer loved this cold wind;
How your light might warm me
You left me with a sunset smile.
The first shoots of spring
deep green with promise
wilted back to the earth
under blooming frost.


Where has my poetry gone?
And why this fear of wasting paper?
I’d sooner waste an Amazon of paper
than the very fabric of my aching soul,
yearning for release
yet unable to find the words.
Dissatisfaction, dissatisfaction, dissatisfaction,
in this life and the next,
with this heart and the next.
No food will nourish me,
no wine can make me drunk,
nicotine denying me even a moment’s peace.
Take this from my hands,
this obligation to live.
Make me content to survive.


As I take a sip of your favourite drink
and consider the way your hands might feel
if it were your fingers chilling gently against the glass;
As I read your favourite book
and wonder which passage might in one leap
have brought your heart to your throat;
As I linger on your favourite word,
rolling it around my tongue,
tasting your breath on it.
A smooth realisation drifts into view,
with the clarity of daybreak
and the allure of the dark,
that I don’t want you here at all.
I want to watch you.
I want to want you
until it destroys me.

Entre sombras

From that patch of light,
not quite large enough
to betray the colour of your eyes,
there flew words…words-
or just one word;
And I felt something
so intensely
as to change
the contours of the earth;
The texture of cotton on my skin;
The passage of sound
through this vacuum,
seeking me
finding me
taunting me.
Those words;
That word:
from your tongue
as I
at your feet
and beg for more.