An apology

An apology

to you

who makes me blush

and scream

and tries too hard

to make me better.


I am sorry

for myself

for my bitter ways

and for my bitter words

but this is my all

and everything.


I hope you forgive

my selfish mind

that tries desperately

to win your approval

but falls too quick

and bruises.







It was a game

A way to pass time

Between her and her

When life dried up

And they’d run out of jokes

So they turned to me

Maybe, because I was closest?

They spit

And flicked dirt at my face

They dropped rocks

From their high heights

That hit me hard

Didn’t bruise

But instead formed scars


Across my body

Made me nothing

When I used to be everything

Or at least

A piece of their everything

Plastic time

What is tomorrow’s perfect?

When today we play

on mental moments

with plastic time

that doesn’t last as long

but travels at the same pace

What is tomorrow’s now?

When this disposable thing

is no longer new

or useful

or relevant

What do I do then?

When all my money is spent

on repeats

of something already wonderful

What do I do then?

I trace the mountain tops

I trace the mountain tops

with my eyes

and now my pencil too

scratching, outlining the tip

I dip and duck into creases

I shade and shadow

shallow edges

and dark ridges

black and white

I use my fingers now

letting them walk

across cliff face

and jump down

so I have to bend knuckle

to reach back up

to sharper edges

that cut my skin

as I graze the points

and then my hand

falls downwards

as I reach the end of the cliff

and I dip


into icy waters


She knew we were watching

and everyone else

As she led her parade

of butter skin

and salted and bleached hair

past boys who shouldn’t be looking

and girls who couldn’t stop

because these newly bronzed baby faces

are kissed and caressed

by our eyes

and they savour

the judgement

that imprints on their damp skin

and they pretend it’s a compliment

but this compliment

will bite them tomorrow

when they look in the mirror

and see our eyes looking back