You Left Me Here.

When the sound of sirens become as real as the yellowing bruises that stained your skin like cigarettes. When I begged you to stay; Please don’t go. But you left yesterday. And again today. Your time here is as unpredictable as the discolouration on the face of a battered woman. I missed you before, then. … More You Left Me Here.

For Shaida

If I could pull the night stars down, like wallpaper. Peel it off in strips and roll it up like gift wrap, I would, and I would store it in a drawer. Tuck it away, and hold on to all those stars. Keep them. Save them. For a day like this. For a day like … More For Shaida

Broken Bird

She was the angel of slow death. Each kiss a reminder of how close I was to the last. Her heart was so big, and so full, and so wild; it could not be just mine. I would have suffocated the gypsy spirit in her that fought so hard to believe that love was all … More Broken Bird

Words Sewn Together

I ache, from carrying the burden of your collected pain. Pain that you gather as you fall down in the door ways of home after home. I could decorate willow trees, with trinkets of sorrow, all yours, for miles. Sadness in every colour. But I sew it all together, instead, and remind you of the … More Words Sewn Together

Dead Meat

In rage, I imagine the suffocation of a bull, in clear plastic. Layers, and layers of clear plastic. It can fight. It can call. But it’s strength will be it’s death. It will die. It’s how I feel, and the image I rewind and pause like an old movie, when I feel this way. Pounding … More Dead Meat

Can’t Dry-Clean Wings

She fell at the gate, her name rusted over above the words ‘angels once stood proud here.’ Somewhere between the farewell handshake, and the tracks where a bookie accepted her halo as a down payment, she more than just her grace.

Refraction

Blasé, you are, over the puncture wound you left behind, just above the heart, just off center. Your surprise at my inertia. The delay in emotion. The bending of heat waves. In knee jerk anger. Smug to think that because you were the architect of my mausoleum, that somehow you could offer me your veins … More Refraction