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.

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.

fifth july two thousand and nine

just found this. i can't remember writing this poem, but it happened. sometimes i forget that it happened, but i remembered last week when i was applying for a job and saw his name. asshole. i've been learning a lot in manchester, i realise.

necessary

yesterday you defriended me on facebook

for writing on my blog that you had ‘obvious intentions’,

forgetting the way i protested as you moved your hand

between my thighs.

i gave up trying

to explain that i didn’t know you

as you positioned me in the darkness,

and thought only of next morning’s bus ride home.

scientology poem

now come up to present time

those words, spoken in a tone
i'm told is forty, was enough.
a positive postulate with
no counter-thought
anticipated or expected.
designed to give perspective,
a Serenity of Beingness.

i opened the book and
read its inscription, from
the girl who promised
to love you forever
and felt nothing.