Category: My Poetry


I remember the smell of smoke
It creased into the folds of your tweed jacket
As I pretended to be asleep so you would pick me up
And take me inside.
Familiar, home
In the folds of your favourite jacket,
I didn’t know then…
I always loved a fire,
Crumpling sacrifices,
My exam schedule and your lungs burning,
The promises greyed like ashes in your mouth
And I stained my teeth trying to hold them.

It was never enough.


– i bring my monsters to bed –

I bring my monsters to bed and kiss the most wounded parts of them. And maybe that doesn’t make it better (because nothing can make it better) but a moment of feeling like it might is all I need. A moment, and then another moment, and a thousand moments for a lifetime.

I bring my monsters to bed and seduce them. Maybe if I do it well enough I can trick myself into loving me too.

I bring my monsters to bed and give them warm blankets and foreheads kisses, sweet things and soft words to be devoured, in the hope of lulling them into rest.

I bring my monsters to bed and let them tell me pretty things, and maybe they’re not true (I know that they’re not true) but if you paint something pretty enough you can convince yourself and sometimes that’s the same thing.

I bring my monsters to bed and kiss the most wounded parts of them. We are all hurting, catching on the edges of our teeth, and if I kiss them hard enough then maybe I’ll be a monster too. We will fear nothing.

I bring my monsters to bed because there is no point pretending they’re not there.

Tongue Twisters

I have a voice.

A voice like marbles mashed in my mouth,  

And running in a dream,

It makes me want to scream

Except then I’d have to hear it.

I have a voice.

Stumbling, catching, like fairy-tale thorns

On all the things I want to say,

Maybe silence is the better way

But there’s power in a voice.

A Perfect Reflection

mirror mirror

Her husband dotes on the daughter of a better life,

Forever mourning the loss of his beloved first wife,

And she’s not enough, though everyone said she was perfection,

Now – just a desperate woman staring at her reflection.

Trying to be as flawless as the glass beneath her fingers,

To push back burning spite, but cruel insecurity lingers,

Because Time’s gouged wrinkles in her skin, though her face remains fair,

But Snow White is young and she can’t compare.

She’s losing her beauty to the envy in her eyes,

To the hate in her heart because the mirror never lies,

Snow White is seven and as beautiful as day…

Perfection has never seemed further away.

Our Game

We thrived on our pushing-pulling game,
Never believing things could ever change,
Victory rots on my tongue,
It tastes so wrong –
Your dying smile,
Because after a while
I pushed too much
And the tenderest touch
Splinters our violent love…
We shatter,
Pretend that it doesn’t matter,
I won. I won. I won.
But it still tastes so wrong,
Because I played thinking I would lose,
I played for you,
Together, forever,
But forever proves too long,
Eternity decays on my lips too,
Because I’d give anything to go back
To the way we were before.

It was just our game

Blackberry Bruises


Blackberry bruises on my fingers,
Swiped by red tonges, but smudges linger,
Tastes like summer days,
A piping pie,
In my scarlet bucket the blackberries lie…
Collected carefully, try not to crush
The fragile things and watch them smush,
And bleed,
I stretch and try to reach,
Toes brushing the wet grass, gleaming green,
Softer than the prickly thorns
That bite my hands to protect their own,
But I want to take the blackberries home.
So I’ll steal them.



Pride becomes your suicide,
History leaves you villainized,
So give all the love you have to envious eyes
The hateful hearts that would see you despise
Yourself as much as they do.
Because confidence should crumble
Like a rotten apple on the tongue,
Oh Narcissus man,
You’re doing it all wrong!
Pride corrupts,
The greatest crime in the world is self-love…
So sweet a sin when a man like you should shrink.
Isn’t it’s better to live crippled in insecurity
Than die, breathlessly
In selfish liquid legacy
Knowing that you are good enough?