There’s a rhythm

in the way we move. Classic

in style when the moon’s bright

and ours – up for grabs.

You never fail to excite

me under this night blue


sky so similar to the blue

of today, rhythm

in the clouds, new found reason to excite

old found reason in the classic

of romance. Let’s grab

for this time, clutch for the bright


among the dark. Bright

between the navy, the blue.


for me in a rhythm

only we know. Let’s be classic

in this modern age. Excite


the black and excite

the white until it’s so bright

we can barely see. Classic

in time, blue

in shot like there’s no pattern, no rhythm

left to grab.


Try to grab

what’s left. Excite

empty space. Dance with me in rhythm

strange and bright,

twirl me in a blue

dress. Pose classic


and be classic,

timeless with exposure, grab

the shot quickly. Before we disappear into blue,

or ultraviolet light. Excite

me like the stars are bright,

between rhythms


of old classics of unknown rhythm,

we move in blue to excite

and to grab at shots between the bright.


Overdue Sestina…

You asked me to write this. To want this. Penis

Hardening, backs bending, thrust

Wanting. Please tease

Me, lick and bite as you please. Arouse

Inside and out. I’m stuck

Here, waiting for the next embrace.


The sweet embrace

Of us, penis

Is welded, stuck

On my mind, the thrust

Of you. You arouse

Everything and I want you to tease


Me. Tease

Me until we embrace,


Every sensation I have. Bare skin and penis

By my leg. You’re hard, almost time to thrust…

I’m stuck


On you. Stuck

On our time loop. Teasing

Me until I melt, thrusting

Feelings I never thought I could ever feel. Embracing

Me in the mornings, at night, whenever the light’s shining. Penis

Awake too and wanting to arouse


Way more than words can arouse.

We’re frozen and stuck

In this slice of want. Penis,

Fingers, mouth. Maybe we’re all a little greedy but you’re a tease

With lips so kissable; I long for the next embrace

And for you to thrust


All you can thrust

Into me. Arouse

The dark days with the sweetest embrace,

And let me be stuck

With you for a while. It’s not all about the tease

Of your penis


Or the thrust of your penis.

It’s the embrace of us stuck

Together, arouse without the tease.


It’s almost been a year

since my last panic attack.

It was in a bathroom;

your birthday party.

You told me not to go

then like most of our time together,

changed your mind at the last minute,

wanting me there.

For a bit.

We’ve spoken twice since.

I used to write about you a lot

and I’d be lying if I said

you didn’t cross my mind sometimes,

often still wondering

what I did wrong.

What it was that made me feel like

I was doing wrong.

How those nights spent alone

sometimes reflect the nights of now.

Last night I dreamed about him,

as I do frequently.

Not like the poem

but like the real life

story of us.

This was a nightmare

and he left me like you did

so when I woke up to


I almost believed it.

It’s been almost a year since my diagnostic.

I’m on a different pill now.

One that feels like it’s unbalancing me

cause I’ve been bleeding for almost a week.

But it’s not blood,

it’s tears and loneliness and my head




Anyone have a plunger?

It’s been almost a year.

I have him now

and I have more voices now

not all of them bad.

The mirror even starts liking me

some mornings.

He makes me feel seen

and when we’re together

on those first date picnic days

it’s hard to believe almost a year ago

I almost didn’t make it.

It’s almost been three years since you left,

though for two you stuck around

and used me.

Undressed me but didn’t kiss me.

Called me but didn’t listen to me.

Needed me but didn’t want me.

Wanted me but didn’t need me.

Same thing, huh?

It’s been almost a year since I first found him.

Stumbling after swiping right,

I found his blog.

I made my own.

Here we are.

Just plain, usually medicated, me.



I was thinking about sending you pictures tonight,

or maybe just taking them

because I wanted to.

I wasn’t sure how you’d react.

If you even would at all.

Sometimes I can’t be adventurous.

Sometimes I can’t be persuaded.

Sometimes I’m sad.

Sad and tired.

I’m gonna pull away from you,

pull me toward you twice as hard.

I am tired of running in circles

so trap me in a rectangle

and stop the puzzles

or stupid arguments.

I want real.

We have that.

I know we can’t get everything

but sometimes

that word again


it feels like you don’t want me



to talk to me.

I know you’re gonna say that’s stupid

but I also know

that you’ll tell me to be honest.

I’m scared I’ll lose happy

but even more terrified to admit

I still have no idea what happy means.

Splinters of sunshine,

sitting next to you in restaurants,

sachets of hot chocolates,

sheep money boxes,

sleeping beside you.

I am sad and tired

and sometimes

I cry.

More than I should.

Walking home today,

my eyes leaked into rain.

I can’t wait for our future,

sometimes maybe I think of it too much,

sometimes I hope you do too.

Sometimes I wish we could travel there.

I’m going to get more help, I promise.

Please be patient.

I love you,

this will be okay.

If it’s not,

settle on 25 and bad cooking and well,

me as I am?

You’re still the one I wanna light up for.

You’re my favourite notification and the only person

I ever want to talk to.

Or, not talk to.

See you soon.

Be safe,

don’t forget to shower,

travel well

and read your waiter’s pad.

Forever (our version) yours,

Nice tits and your brave poetry girl.


I was an adult today.

In so much,

I bought healthy food

and had an interview.

That’s what counts, right?

Leaving the house

with a bra on

and looking half decent.

Stolen is the wrong word –

you gave me a jumper.

It smells of you.

You’re the one thing

I can both be adult and child for.

Marvel at snow

but huddle with you

because outside is scary.

Scary cold and

you’re warm.

Apart from your feet.

My internet is still dodgy,

the boiler is more temperamental

than me.

Impressive, right?

I might even hoover when I get home

before eating something other than


for dinner.

Maybe that’s what grown up is.

Who knows,

that’s sorta boring anyways.

Miss you,

that’s boring too

but please settle for keys and words.

Or not, settle.

Be happy and boring with it.



Feels like a while since I’ve written…

Time travels slowly

but I’m still greedy on ours.

My room is cold right now,

and there’s marks on my neck.

Full disclosure:

Last night was more than fine.

I’ve not put my all into this,

not yet anyway…

you’re not just the world,

it’s more like a planet full of snacks,


and skinny times.

There’s a mark near my collarbone

but you left my chest unscathed.

Here’s to this unknown future

but for now,

the present.

Where we’re working

and maybe working more

and eating cooked meals

though of course

like this morning

snacks are always permitted

and spontaneous dates

and seeing you more.

You’re my favourite part of the day.

Also, you’re the worst.

I’m cold and going to huddle

under blankets now.

Enjoy work.



The woods you walk

these days

smell of herbs.

Not the good kind.

It reminds you of your mother

and the life you swore you

wouldn’t have.

You’re out late from work again

but you’ve been saving since you were fifteen.

You see the ballooons under your eyes these days

because they are balloons,

theyre gonna cost more than 5p plastic.

How friends tell you you look tired

but also how


you’ve become.

It’s a stigma.


Happy is clean pyjamas

and having you around

and warm hands on

bare skin

where nights are filled with us

from days thinking of you.

It’s finishing work on time

but if not

at least closing

in the best way possible.

Happy is poetic words

and nights with ink

on my palms

from writing sunshine

and rainbows

and beauty

in things that aren’t always


I’m drifting off now.

I hope there’s no nightmares…

I have to do it all again tomorrow.