Your lips my lips have kissed

Your lips my lips have kissed I can’t deny

I’ve not forgotten your arms in which I lay

Your warm skin under mine til break of day

Nor the rise of your chest as you quietly lie

Until we both move and you softly sigh

And in my cold heart grows a lust I obey

To hold you close so you don’t slip away

Not wanting to hear those words of goodbye

Clinging like ivy, I curl round your frame

Absorbing your heat, the touch of your skin

Breathing your sweet scent fills me to the core

In your absence I yearn for this over again

This flame ignited,it burns from within

A fire to hold me still wanting more



Inspired by the wonderfulΒ Edna St. Vincent Millay








To be a real writer

A real writer bleeds onto the page.

That’s what they said.

A real writer forces jagged fingernails into their chest and tears out their bloody heart still beating so the page can be splattered in crimson glory. To take that ugly bleeding heart and smear it across the pristine sheet until words are formed from the blotting patches of blood. Swirling in the mind of the fevered artist and covered thick with their lifeblood.. their entire soul .

Only when you have given yourself over to the desire, to the need, to the pain can you fully understand the expectations of one so wretched. Hoping that one day these smears and blotches will mean something. Wishing that one day someone will come along with eyes filled with wonder, lift the piece and exclaim in awe. To gush at the richness of the imagery, gasp at the raw emotion on show and most of all understand how hard it is for one so private to allow a heart out of its cage, enough to scar a notepad with such force.

Only then shall I feel like a writer.

For My Love

In the secret depths of despair
That’s where you’ll find my love

To wade past the coy lily pads
Knee deep in petals of pinks and lilac
Pushing aside creepers of lust
Avoiding the fluttering kisses of wings
That alight your skin
Sending tingles of promise
Of romance
Of lies

For you to swim
in the deep waters of my soul
Ignoring the skittering surface
Brushing away the algae
Diving down
Head first
Under the thick azure waters
To grasp at the kelp
On the floors of my heart

When you are strong enough
To part the jagged coral
Slip your fingers into the crevice
Of my blemished shell
And prise open the lips
To get to the pearl,
unbeknownst of its purity
Feeling your oxygen drain from your throat
Burning to reach the jewel
Which you only hope exists

Only when you can breath within despair
Will you know me, my love.

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

She had a soul but they ate it up


Upon first meeting, she was too much

A whirlwind of pigtails and sugar

Offering her heart with a daisy chain

To the boy who persisted at kiss chase

As flowers turned to love

and tears, and sweat

Her open heart found a home

On a rollercoaster

Where the theme park never closed

And though she sometimes felt nauseous

The stomach flips were too addictive

Grasping each new adventure with a clean slate

Every love a contortion on a clay heart

Until one day the cracks would no longer seal

She could only watch as they left

With dusty hands and fatter souls

Whilst feeling the lightness

In the space it once resided

Her very own