Wednesday 18 May 2011

oh l'amore

i am writing a lot of shit, loved-up poetry.

colours

you found me wretched as the night before,
with clear water and a blank aspirin pout.
and we swapped stories under the gaze of an
owl. hungover, i thought I’d like to know you.

when life before was watercolour, we're
acrylic. thick strokes and hard lines. i stick
snapfish shots to my walls. each awkward
pose is poetry, and my hand at your throat.

on grey days we make our own smudged
sketches. spread out under canvass, i'm
washed out from staring at a morning-white
ceiling, two people and one blue towel.

you're yellow, or orange. i group people by
colours and you're brighter than the others,
twin green rain coats on overlapping
schedules. i am joining the dots of each day

to make weeks, months. each tuesday
cooking in the kitchen, lingering on each
kiss. fuelled by clichés, under the gaze of an
owl. clutching my crooked, crimson heart.

Tuesday 3 May 2011

intense

bodies

separated by noses, this is the closest i can get
to you without osmosis. we fall asleep eye to eye.

on the day they killed the terrorist, ten years
of history sealed itself in a body bag. unaware,
under the glow of the laptop i looked up at you
and cried, feeling the weights of time lift.