No Bushes Were Harmed.

So I do a really good job

at keeping things inside.

But here’s the truth,

though we’ve been low

you’ve been my highest point.

I threw up last night

after a rough weekend

and strange few days

and I really wanna be fine.

We are fine,

and I’ll try and be sick quieter next time.

I don’t think I said it back to you

but moving in

has me all excited nervous

similar to our first date.

I’ll see your first date waist coat

hanging up every day

and you’ll see

my dungarees at every turn.

Cool with that?

I’m sorry.

I can’t apologise enough.

We both feel bad

and there’s no promise we won’t

fight again.

Maybe we fight more

because we know each other more,

you told me once

I don’t challenge you.

This isn’t a challenge.

This is not wanting to lose you.

I hate the screaming

and crying

of late

but the warm firm lips on mine

remain as well.

Thank you for the side of the bed

for the bugs

and always for having great hair.

Can’t wait for you to come home.

Soon it will actually be both our homes.



What you don’t know…

I’ve been at my boyfriend’s house for

almost three weeks now.

He says he isn’t sick of me yet

and tonight we’re having take-out.

He says it’s something he could get used to.

He meant coming home to food not to me,

but the principal still stands.

I think…


I’ve been wearing Minnie Mouse nightwear

but underneath that

lacy underwear

I got a while back.

A year ago I could barely get dressed.

Today I wore a dress I never

would have worn usually.

I like a lot more than I did a year ago.

Like tighter clothes,

and underwear, that might be

a little uncomfortable

but makes me feel

how you made and still

make me feel.

I don’t think I ever

told you this

but our first date

was probably the first time

I’d felt comfortable in what was

a long dark while.

I don’t think I even really told myself that.

I know I’m difficult

and closed off sometimes

but I’m still here.

Somehow, we’re still here.

I’m in your bed,

you look over,

I look back.

That’s our cringy love story.

When your eyes look like that.

This bed…

Tells some of our firsts.

You told me you loved me

on a dark September night.

You made love to me

in the Summer.

You’ve added additions such as a giant


I still haven’t taken the hint

and given the space back…

We’ve done naughty things under these sheets

but my sheets

tell just as many stories.

Right now,

I’m here alone

thinking about you

and how you still haven’t asked me

to leave.

Or, a nicer version of that,

at least.

We’ve spent the past nineteen

nights sleeping beside each other.

I know when I go back to work

tomorrow night

it’ll get tough being on different

schedules again

but I’m still game for nights with you

even then.

Promise not to wake you up

every morning.

Or, I’ll do my best…


Time for me?

You feel so far

And yet there’s so few

Distance between us; we hang

Together and spread

The time. You’re mine

For a slice of portion


Amidst other portions

Of people far

From being mine.

The few

I choose spread

Sunshine into me and hang


Frowns upside down. Hang

Us proudly up. Steady in proportion;

Unsteady to spread

These fleeting far

Sections of few

Moments with others. They’re mine


And mine

Alone. Hang

With me? There’s few

I want but you, portions

Divided and not too far

Apart. Spread


Evenly and spread

Fairly until I am yours and you are mine.

No space too far

Or tree too high for us to hang

Like bats. Take apart and portion

The few


Hours of the day left. The few

Seconds of us left. I wanna spread

Our pictures on the well, portions

Of memories and time of mine.


Up everything else. Stop being far


For there is few things to fight about, far

From each other, portions split. Be mine

Again? Don’t spread yourself thin, I’m only asking to hang.






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.


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.