Dear god I miss you and I dance to the blues feeling sick all the while my toes are anemic there’s a frog in my throat it’s all a bit wrong and we dance to the blues two left feet all the while it doesn’t quite suit us these bathroom tiles on the floor the ballroom dancing to the blues we don’t touch all the while dear god I miss you I haven’t seen you in weeks it’s all a bit wrong and all a bit blue.
'Ode to my sleeping love...', written early 2020, during third year of university
Your small face smiles at me from across the dining room a dining room with a bed the bed doesn’t have a frame and your blonde fringe is gone too cut off when it started to fall out I didn’t say the image fit these days you can hardly move and I forget for a second my own losses I only think of what’s coming an inhale is stubbing my sternum on fibreglass while it’s reinforcing some concrete it’s all the same I try to hold the past a little tighter
I felt it then nothing at first and then all of a sudden in a burst an itch on the roof of my mouth when I close it something persistently ingrown it catches on a button a crease a similar in relation smile and then it is my turn I smile and tell you “I’m sorry” you smile at me like you’re sorry that I’ve come back to see this.
Poetry from my upcoming collection, 'Haven't the Foggiest'