Thunder in my chest Earth under my nails I dig a grave For my own heart

A Journal of Undoing – Four

For so long I have been in the possession of something that aches to be broken wide open and set free from longing. I will take anything – an affair, a distraction, a broken arm, an appendectomy. Heartache; anything that provides release from the embers of loving someone who needs nothing; least of all you….

A Journal of Undoing – Three

Ever saw someone who made your brain freeze when they smiled? Someone whom you couldn’t bear to lean on you in case they heard your hammering heart?   Hers is a beauty that loosens the flesh from my bones and makes its home in the canals of my marrow. Each time I saw her, an earthquake…


It is the middle of the night in a week in the middle of winter. The dark is darker here. The cold is no stranger but that does not offer warmth. Dense fog settles itself over the crop, its booted feet stepping gingerly over the hibernating soil and bare tree branches. There is a field….

It will always be the little things

  It’s been two weeks. She’s not coming back.¬†You’re not sure if that thought is going to pass quietly like a widow crossing herself silently in a church. Or if you’re going to wet your keyboard trying not to cry and failing pathetically. It will never be the big things that hurt you the most….