There was, a certain art to it
The flick of your tongue, lips mouthing words
As you sentenced her to love

One cruel curl of a smirk
A dot of the I, on the notes
That she kept close by

The perfectly measured beat
Of her heart against your breath
While she held hers

Waiting for the whole world to turn.

There was a certain skill, in it all
Giving just enough – yet taking
Taking her life for your own

Deliberation from a Doll’s House

What is life without a voice?

Can’t take a stand,

can’t make a choice.

To hear the words and know the way,

but never have the strength to say.

Wishing your thoughts were always heard,

Wouldn’t that life be so absurd.

Under your hands

You unfold me
Take this naked heart
Peel back encrusted layers
And own me

Every inch of flesh is accounted for
Under your exacting scrutiny

Eyes that hide
Under wide mistrusting lids
Flower in your presence
Ungainly hips and dimpled thighs
Dance beneath your touch
Graceful fluidity
Finds me
Under the radar of your gaze

You strip me
Of emotional restraint
Slice through walls of anger
Pulling me through the fence
Of remorse, of pity, of doubt
And raise me up
A jewel
In your palms

You own me
These overlapping pieces
Carefully constructed
To fold around you

Clarity of Absence

It’s just a drop in the ocean

He says

Time will fly by

Just fourteen days


By day three

The ice cream had run out

Day seven supported a floor

Lined with tear stained tissues

By the tenth day

The batteries had died

Only to be replaced by curse words

On the fourteenth night

He found a pristine flat

Scrubbed clean and bleached

One solitary post-it on the bed


‘You were right, that’s all it took’



Cage of our own making

With walls closing tight

Ever inching inwards

Recycled air

Compresses our breath

As we rally against the inevitable

Limbs, joints, pressed tight into corners

Flesh pushed hard into plaster

Fighting to keep the space

Refusing to accept the confines

Unwilling to see the cell

For what it really is

A glass box of our own construction


An end

It ends,

Not when you or I say

it does

It just ends

From theΒ very start

there was no control

We tumbled into being

A landslide of aftermath

Propelled by others actions

A lack of self control

Squashed together

Like rotten pears in a crate

Rattling along

the bumpy road of fate

We didn’t plan a future

Just as we won’t prepare for the end

One day it will halt

Grind to a standstill

And suddenly we’ll notice

It’s all so






Resistance is futile

When it hits ……It collides

Dragging you along in undercurrents

Ignoring all resistance

All caution

Knocking you down on impact

Then pulling you in

Regardless of flailing arms,

Or stubborn feet

The crisp clean moment of realization

That brutal beautiful force

Which inhales you

Binds your soul to its existence

And takes you

When it hits … resistance is futile
You are powerless

Kiss of Death

With soft fleshy lips
pressed hard
full against my mouth
He could suffocate me with one kiss
Yet I would die happy
With a joyous tingling inside
Willing him to keep his luscious lips on mine

When his hands firmly hold my neck
Thumb trailing over my jaw
Fingers curling around my throat
He could halt the intake of air
Yet suffocation would bring only desire
As I sigh and die
By his warm hands

Covering over the Cracks

Peeling away the insanity
Layer upon layer
Of discarded skins

Each sheath of dusty memory
Laying a rotten foundation
For the next

Silently dormant
Unless a stray air bubble
Rises to the surface

Pushing the exterior
Forcing the finished facade
To suddenly


Causing chaos to rain
On the unmarked carpets
And pristine walls

A bubble burst
Oozing of distilled tears
Ringlets of damp surfacing

Red rust crumbling
from the cracks of masonry
Threatening to break

“Let’s just brush this under the rug,
Paper over the offending lacerations,
Gloss over the blemishes”

Yes, lets make things all new …. Again

Living with Sin

It frustrates me and it breaks me
Leads me on and on
Makes my mundane cheery
I hate it when you’re gone

You give your tongue with freedom
And more of it I seek
Yet often it falls dormant
Depending which day of the week

I crave your words inside me
I want you more and more
Though you leave me here frustrated
Crawling on the floor

You fire my haste with patience
Keep my rage at bay
Bind my wrists with silence
Forgetting all the words I say

Might you keep me here forever
Hidden in your lust
Sheltered by encouragement
Warm beneath your trust

Will you paw me like a tiger
Bound and pressed,
and dressed – for sin
Would you play me
as your piccolo
or like a violin

Can you give me one last vision
One final small request
Would you treat me as lover
Not just a household guest