Smoke

31/07/2018

I’ve spent two weeks
In a city of millions
Every centimetre filled
With another hot coffee to go
And deadlines
Looming, always
Each step on the stairs
Occupied
With him and her
And assistant and CEO
Waiting for the same tick
Of the clock
This city contortionist
Makes Mary Poppins wheeze
A jealous sigh
Or release?
Not knowing how or why
But after two weeks
Of hurried cries
I’ve found a love
For this smoky town
Tied up and contained
In obtuse shapes
Sky high 9-5
And cityscapes

The Model

27/07/2018

Hello!

My latest blog post is up on The Model so if you’re interested in fashion and the representation of black models on the runway then go over and have a read.

Ailish x

Girls and boy

24/07/2018

I was at the same time the best

and the worst

 

I felt myself torn apart

My bottom half was theirs

and my top was his

and he would stroke my hair

whilst they dug their nails

into the skin around my ankles

and in the moment when I’d look up

and see him staring down

I’d feel that wordless adoration

before their claws once more

plucked my toenails from my feet

and crawled up my legs

used knives to scar me

each one on each

 

So I found it hard to balance

with such a mess at my feet

Maybe I had to give up that part of me for him

 

I would give up anything for him.

Halloween

20/07/2018

And in the moment between

my alcohol-inspired slumber

and his drug-fuelled insomnia

he pressed his drunk fingers

against my patient back

and mapped a perfect and precise future

Monday

17/07/2018

Another sun

Or maybe the same

Wakes us early

And forces us to change

Again

But remain very much the same

And hustle into another car

Which gives good news

Exciting scary news.

 

Us three

Walk down past ruined castles

And beaches

And talk about each other

And laugh about each other

And queue for something

Very much worth queuing for.

 

Home again

To spend

Another never-ending night

Talking about

How amazing it has been

And I think

How strange it is

That your thoughts are mine

And I cannot wait to wake up

Tomorrow (and for many more tomorrows)

In a good mood

‘I think it might be your fault’

Sunday

14/07/2018

Another morning is ours

And waiting

When we open our eyes

To sweat and sun

And cover ourselves in more

Or less

Cloth

And meet him

Who I haven’t seen in a while

And miss.

 

In the car we gallop

Down motorways

And get caught in a storm

Of people

And when we land on the beach

We seek shelter

To eat our sand sprayed

Sandwiches

And listen to poetry

That I haven’t written

But wish I had.

 

At home we waste hours

Eating, drinking

Listening to me talk

And listening to him listen

A soft hum and nod

And then decide

To take the night

And watch other’s laugh

Upon borrowed bikes.

 

And it feels so good

To have him

And to let him have me

Because I have never met myself

Or seen myself so closely

And he’s making me love her

And telling her

‘You’re not the only one’

But meaning something other

To what ‘he’ has said before.

 

Saturday

11/07/2018

Hungover mornings

On their balcony

Smoked salmon

Bitter on my tongue

Melting with the aftertaste

Of martini

But soothing too

And friendlier.

 

We walked to the dene

And bent down to speak

To lower creatures

Who melt me

And her

And then to spend our last few coins

On ice that’ll melt too

When licking at our tongues.

 

And then it’s into a busy street

To buy disposable things

Plastic time

And plastic love

In the heat

And through pathways

That sound like Fleetwood Mac

And drawn out summer days.

 

And home now to enjoy

The freeze of tap water

On my bare legs

We drink rose to soften

And numb our limbs

And push and rock our bodies

Into corners

Of our round heaven.

 

It’s 7 o’ clock

And we’ve forgotten the time

So hurry into clothes

And onto metros

And drag our half-drunk minds

To meet sober ones

Who remind me of older times

Before him

Horrible times.

 

We skip home

Me speaking nonsense

And him

As always

Catching each word

And cherishing it

And telling me

‘You’re drunk’

As if he isn’t too.

 

Blood

10/07/2018

I imagine her

finding me

sat on the edge

and she says

‘Oh baby, that’s nothing

you didn’t even make yourself bleed’

 

This is not a poem

09/07/2018

Hello!

This is not a poem, but just a little note to say I’ve started writing weekly blog posts for a new blog called ‘The Model’.

My first post is up on the site now and you can find it here.

I hope you enjoy xx

Friday

06/07/2018

It wasn’t anything special

I don’t think

Other than him

Here

And me on the side

Drinking in a long dress

That didn’t match

My settings

But he told me ‘you look pretty’

So, I couldn’t take it off

And wouldn’t dare.