Greenwich Mean Time is a liarIn the mornings, while I yawn andGreenwich Mean Time is a liar in Free Verse More Like This
pour cereal singing into a bowl, you
yawn and turn in bed, the evening
settling like snowfall, thick and heavy
outside your window. Here the sun rises,
there it sets, we exist at opposite ends
of the days, sending our postcard promises
with the cycle of the moon. In the afternoons
I walk along the beach and the tides pool in
with your slumbering sighs, like the oceans
are your lungs, filling and deflating with a
white-wash rumble. The birds chorus the dawn
and the gulls hang suspended in a waning day
and I think of the clattering wind-chimes behind me
as your cereal hitting the bowl, the odd piece
scattered on the countertop, your bleary eyes
never noticing. In the evenings, I push the sun
down below the mountains, to sit high up in your
cerulean skies, you pack up the stars and mail them
to me, and they pinprick the dusk as if you threw them
up like confetti. You glance at the time zones on your
phone, and wish me goodnight as I wish you a good day
i am nothing more than a tollgategoodbyes are difficult, it is thei am nothing more than a tollgate in Free Verse More Like This
full stop you long to turn into a
semi-colon, the finality you wish
was as frail as your wavering heart
beat. goodbyes are difficult, mailing
secret kisses to cheeks for the last time,
hoping that the warmth won’t fade, that it
will be the only souvenir you need to take home.
disentangling the knots of our existence
on a tokyo crossroads, eyes caught like
sky and sea, the city stirs and the cars circle
like vultures and i feel vulnerable without
you. i am vulnerable without you, in a metropolis
that will forget my face but darling i could never
forget yours. it will come to me, from the white foam
of sleepless nights, it will be drawn in the clouds
whispering past my aeroplane window, it will be etched
in the crease of my bed-sheets when i return home and
you will be a spectre haunting somewhere you've never been,
the momento i can't shake out of my sandals and around the globe
i will be the will o' whisp flickering behind your curtains,
A crash-course on friendshipi. Just because you wouldn’t doesn’t mean they won’t.A crash-course on friendship in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
ii. My mother used to tell me that the boundaries of what we found acceptable were like sports grounds. Some people play in stadiums, Olympic-sized swimming pools, anything goes. Other people play on a ping pong table, on the spot doing keep-me-ups. And just because something is a big deal to you, it might not be for them.
iii. You can’t make people be your friend. You can’t go up to the boy who always sits in the back row of class and say that you can see he has learned to listen, to absorb, and you can teach him how to expand, to express. But you can say hello.
iv. Promises of forever are futile, aren’t fair. You will grow and change course like a vine between two towering trunks. You will split and mend your seams in different orders like a river parted around a rock. You will not be the same as twenty-year-old you, thirty-year-old you, and neither will they. Some tire tracks stay parallel for
Duplicity lies in more than just lightHe thinks: I will keep you like a dirty secret under my tongue that no-one will know, but everyone can just about taste, can feel the answers and questions burn at the tip of their tongue but never be able to verbalise.Duplicity lies in more than just light in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I will lock you into my marrow, let you fester in my bones and when I fall one day and break an ankle, I might just scream your name.
I will knead you into the dough of my skin, diluted and spread so thin that most people will look straight through you, and those that look too closely will not be able to quite discern the rope-veins criss-crossed across the back of your hand, the hard line of your eye-brows, the clock-hands turning in your palms telling you how much time you’re wasting with a stop-out like me. You will be the trophy I keep hidden at the back of the shelf, the notch at the top of my bedpost, my fondest memory. You will be the one that got away while I am the one that never should have been.
I will remember the sweet scent of victory every time your
Don't fall in love with a poetDon’t fall in love with a poetDon't fall in love with a poet in Free Verse More Like This
because we can find beauty in anything
and we won’t let it go;
I fell in love with a boy because I thought the crooked
line of his mouth was a mirror image of mine,
fell in love with him because his nails were square like
headstones and I wanted to bury myself in him.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
because we notice the minutiae in every face
and we orbit like strung out satellites;
I fell in love with a girl because when she cried her skin
blossomed like an over-ripe peach, and I wondered
if I would swallow the stone by accident when I kissed her.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
because we can’t let go of the quirks we collect.
we exist like mirrors, without an object we are a blank slate
and the one thing we can’t stand are blank spaces,
that’s why we fill pages with ink to cover the silence of
-our parents’ marriage, dissolving like salt in water, but still leaving a bitter taste acrid in your mouth;
Mona Lisa smilingLet’s talk about wanting to fall apart;Mona Lisa smiling in Free Verse More Like This
Let’s talk about over-riding the one instinct
we all have in common,
Let’s talk about not wanting to get out of bed
for a day,
Let’s talk about timing the whole day to have
the least amount of social contact.
Let’s talk about faking smiles more than not,
about inwardly grimacing every time someone asks
“you seem quiet today, what’s wrong?”
because how can you explain that for some reason
this whole spinning aimlessly around the sun thing has
gotten tedious and the only spinning you seem to
be doing is out of control.
(but there is a reason, one that stretches beyond
the oh-your-parents-divorced-what-a-shame and the
oh-your-dad-wasn’t-exactly-what-we-expected and the
because I can’t see an end to the worst things and my bad luck
is coming in ninety-nines.
Let’s talk abo