Red dress confessions
on a black dress
kind of evening
slip one off
slip the other over your shoulders
make sure your
eyeshadow and knickers
match your intentions
otherwise we might never
get the opportunity
to have this last dance
to our song
before outside forces
separate
you and I
forevermore

The wind dancers, green
Painted toes brown, dainty feet
Planted in the mud

So here I am
out on a raft
just me and my anxieties
trying hard to get
away from a vessel
taking on so much water
I think I see Jack and Rose
swimming towards us

And if the best poems are written by squeezing the heart,
And by dipping the pen in the ink of agony,

Maybe, I've not written mine yet.