Hold On

For all the times you’ve held my hand
I know, you have a strong grip, your spirit
never ceases to brighten, or radiate
warmth from your fingers, to mine
and so,
my dear,

hold on.

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Constellations

I like the sound of my pen scratching paper drawing smooth long lines until we

Stop

come up for air and breathe for a while

aimlessly wander to the brink,

of this morning’s tastes
and the colours of last night
that have seeped into your skin.

For my pen could draw lines on your back connecting each scar, freckle, blemish

Rose Tattoo

A constellation tattooed in the back of my mind though nothing is permanent,

but the sound of my pen this morning and you-

 

beautiful.

Oyster

“I drink too much tea,” she said while making herself a mug. She lived in contradictions, she smiled in the face of irony and always added three heaped sugars.

“Stop, ” I said. ” You’ll become an instant diabetic.”

“I’m sure that’s not how it works.” She replied, the corner of her mouth inching upwards to create that dimple on her left cheek I loved. Continue reading Oyster

Doubt

It eats at the back of your mind, making those loud chewing noises I detest so much. 

Today I decided that I’m going to be braver. Not in the sense that I’m going to go skydiving, or rock climbing or learn parkour. I mean braver in that deep philosophical sense. I’m going to be myself, pure, unedited. I will embrace the fact that I am the human equivalent of a rushed draft that someone pulled together at the last minute, fuelled by caffeine and desperation. Continue reading Doubt

Morning 18/7/17

This morning, the sight of a blank page was promising.

Ideas came freely, open, into my brain and out of my pen seamlessly. I think I’m better at writing in the morning. More likely, I’m just less awake and therefore incapable of feeling any pressure to be good. A usually overactive mind at this stage has only a few concerns; keep eyes open, yawn, get coffee, write. Continue reading Morning 18/7/17