Notes to a friend going to meet my love

There are fireworks going off here. It’s like the world is calling out her name. Listen to me, my friend. Before you go there are some things you must know. You will meet her, and her beauty will confuse you. It will derail you. You will sit across the table from her and she will…

A Journal of Undoing – Two

There are two kinds of waiting. One with a definitive end in sight, no matter the time. One without. The latter is a kind of waiting without waiting. Which means to say, you don’t know if things will ever change and you don’t want to bet on it, but each time you try and close the…

Quarantine

Protect the softest parts of you. The parts that look like hide but are as tender as kitten paws not yet touched the earth. Protect all the tired people in you. The ones who sigh, unable to bear another day. Who look too eagerly toward the ends of things. For whom, to be unseen and unremembered…

Unfickle 

Every night I coax my beloved to tell me again how she loves me. “I will never choose you,” she says with a steady and a voice that betrays only boredom. So many years now, but to my ears it still sounds as brittle as the breaking neck of a tiny bird. The mistake is…

Leaving town

It’s been a while since we met here, hasn’t it? I’m sorry I don’t do this oftener. It feels not dissimilar to gutting myself with a cheese knife. It’s not for lack of things to say, words, or even how I feel. It’s just measly armour. So pathetic. Always prided myself on such courage but I…

Everything is for you

To write to you is butchery. I might as well take a carving knife and have a go at my thigh. I may as well make fillets of my tendons. Only, writing is worse. To write, I have to step out of my clothes with immense caution. I need to undress for you with such…

When you leave

Sometimes you have to go. You don’t leave, but you do go. I had often thought about it but I didn’t know a person could really do that. You can. You do. And as much as recognising the difference is a comfort to me, it still means an absence. It still means you’re not here….

A letter for old love

The sum of my years has been spent knowing your body and learning the puzzle of how we fit and connect into each other. The plane of your flank flush with my arm. My face flat against your belly like a memory foam pillow. The sweep of your back meeting the convex of my front. My nose settling into the…

Let me kiss your knees, Helen of Troy

Beloved, To tear myself away from you is nothing short of sin. Your voice like a single melting marshmallow, like warm custard on the sides of a saucepan: soft, sweet, a mouth hug. Only I know how it is to love you and not have you. Challenge me with this. Show me one other human…