How perfectly sweet it is to be so newly in love with you.
Eyes meeting over coffee bars, and seeing stars and blushing.
Your hand brushing mine so lightly, just so subtly slightly.
My nightly screams of
‘I LOVE YOU’ silently sent,
into the abyss to warm you,
And follow you home.
How sweetly perfect it is to see you fall so newly in love with me.

Like the blood blister on my thumb
I’m marked by you
Changed from the friction of trying too hard
Over and over again
To light you up and inhale you
My boy of smoke
Lingering always but never tangible
Weave yourself into my hair
Sit in my lungs
Stain my lips and
Keep me
Love me
Breathe me
Bite me

A Tuesday evening,
The tide is out, the stones are green,
Awkward hellos, bumping into walls.
You and me in black,
Walking slow, sipping, sighing.
Sit with me on a bench while I tell you
Why not.
Why we can’t keep keeping on,
Why we shouldn’t.
You’ll only half listen,
Hear the bits that make sense,
Drop the rest in the bin with your Fanta can.
Come back to me tomorrow,
Like nothing ever happened.
Believe you’ll be asleep in my bed by Thursday,
Repeat myself if you find that you’re not.
How do we break up when we were never together?
Does something that never started ever get to stop?

You keep your cards safely packaged
Close to your chest,
I throw mine around the room,
And they never rest.
You are careful, calculated and
Logics steadfast servant.
I am flippant, chaotic and
Ever fierce and fervent.
The bottom line is that you
Don’t feel like I do.
You don’t love like me it’s true.
But I feel and love too hard
When it comes to you.
Dealt such differing decks and holding such dissimilar hands.
You and I are so desperately distinct
In ways we’ll never understand.

Falling in love with you
Is like turning all of my senses upside down
The colour of your eyes is the smell of freshly cut grass,
The taste of an ice cold drink and the feeling of a dewy summer morning on my skin.
Your hands smell like smoke and feel like April sunshine warm on my back.
They’re strong like the old trees I used to climb and hold me up just like them.
Your voice is the sound of laughter from downstairs as I fell asleep as a child and it flows over me and touches me gently like fine raindrops on my cheeks.


Every part of you is art to me,
You are intricate but whole.
And I’m falling in love with the way you are made.

I’ve tried being strong,
I’ve tried fearless and bad.
Chased love more than a few times,
But it’s all just a fad.
Because underneath it all,
I’m still a little girl who’s sad and
Who’s too scared to sleep,
Because she just needs her Dad.

I don’t recognise real love,
And my father can’t see purple.
I say yes to pain and sickness,
And him? Well he just crumbles.
I am born of years of hurt,
And he is colourblind.
I am scribbled on a page but
Him? He is straight lines.
Now I’m not sure I’d accept it,
And he wouldn’t know it either way.
So I suppose the issue is that
Love is purple you could say.