She opens her eyes
as if for the first time
to her own tears
and doesn’t know how
or why
she is crying
and moments later
she wakes again
to her confused reality
and sobs slowly
She waits for him
to dry her tears
so she can forget again
Its been a while
but life catches
takes you by surprise
and bites at your tail
It’s been a while
I’m sorry
But when him and her
and she and he take time
to organise
then life is left to linger
longingly online
It’s been a while
But here
Where I take time seriously
when it stops at the red light
(unlike some)
I can pause
and ponder
and forget outside these lines
black thick hairs
at the corners of my screen
sprout out
and ingrown
in my mind
…and yours too
hopefully…
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
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
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.
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
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’
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.
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.
I imagine her
finding me
sat on the edge
and she says
‘Oh baby, that’s nothing
you didn’t even make yourself bleed’
