The silent couple sits shuffling in their chairs whilst the waiters bustle around. Their phones faced down, threatening to disrupt the silence. Then the vibration beckons. With a quick flip of the phone, a stolen look at the screen and an internal relief that there’s something to focus on. When the food comes shoulders relax…
Category: Poems
A Cocoon
of auburn hair draped around me and you; hiding us from the world – and softening the needles we jab into each other. Sometimes it feels like a vaccine – or acupuncture; Are we harming each other? Or trying to fix the damage that’s been done? Or maybe we’re hoping to minimise future wounds… Photo…
Late at Night
Do you text them late at night like you do to me? Do you whisper sweet nothings of what you both could be? Do you show off your cocktail flair and then caress their legs and their hair? Do you drink as much with them, ‘though you’ve only gone over at ten? Do you plant…
The Things We Do…
Oh, the things we do to feel desired. We spend forever styling our hair for a boy we’ve never met. We beautify our cuticles – do you reckon he’s noticed, yet? Our legs are freshly shaved In this skirt we’ve recently braved. We wait in a bar, alone Hopelessly checking our phones. We ponder his…
The Passion She Found in That Room
She thought it would be tricky to get along with him that night; this arrogant, sexist man. He reminded her of when she was younger – more naive, more accepting of men’s chauvinistic remarks. Maybe this kindled a yearning for her youth? His girlfriend was at home, she wasn’t known to her. His presence was…
Unravelling
The inevitable has come to fruition, And everything else is tumbling inward at an alarming rate. I’m unravelling. Will screaming help? Not really. Will crying? Temporarily. How will I fill the void you’ll create in your absence? Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash
Like a Cat
Like a cat, I spread out in the hot sun. My fur: freshly washed and Moroccan oiled; my tail gently curling. No pressures on this day, only the promise of warm sunlight until sunset. Drifting in and out of dreams, my breath steadies. My limbs stretch and my whiskers twitch. Photo by Divyan Rajveer Rana…
These Hands
These Hands these hands – adorned with silver, gold and opal – twitch with a need for touch they tingle for intimacy my fingertips hold yours; will you be around for long enough for me to learn their print? the lick of varnish applied before rousing Friday nights wears off by Monday morning; telling of my…
Still Searching for Prince Charming 