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s Aug 26
bake the cake in time lapse
and boomerang the icing,
mark yourself on the map
but act like no-one’s watching.
swipe along the filters,
pick the gif it deserves,
couldn’t be any simpler,
yet I'm a bundle of nerves.

used to be hard to know
if it’s dream or memory,
but now I think its borrowed
from your Instagram story;
I need to reconfigure
truth from media feed,
it seems I’ve bartered reality
for the comfort of this gleam;

and crossing a trembling icon
on that five inch screen,
is no longer killing the application,
but just a version of me.
s Aug 26
Perhaps the only good thing about being Twelve hours apart is that the middle of the night doesn’t scare me anymore–it's sunshine for my other half, and my body feels the warmth of that.
long distance, love, half day, sun, moon, day, night, warmth, fear
s Jul 15
w/o
without you,

the minutes are slow

and things are always in place.

the time of dusk

right before dark

is so long,

it makes me dread night,

without moon in sight.

without you

there’s a lot of hours

to fill;

my shoulders can feel

your head tuck in

–prickly but certain;

that scalp,

from memory,

I can smell.

I‘ll stop missing you

for a moment

if you step into my dream

–always more real

than it needs to be.

  bodies aren’t designed

to sleep alone

and mine is toned

into a shape that

snugs only into your bones.

makes me think of

how many lines of poetry

it will take to process

the grief of losing you

to death or distance

  or dissolution.

I fold my hands and pause,

eyes closed,

   pretend one palm is yours

–squeezed tight;

good night,

or just a long one

without you.
s Feb 18
cat scratches
in the green room
a back stage
more calm than the front.
I ask about the
maroon robe
and picnic-table-cloth choker,
home made.
making my way through
the Bombay Sapphire
highs and lows
Awkward hellos,
over salty popcorn
and Bonobo.

Mc Donald's veg burger
and soft serve updates
'I earn in dollars' she says
a fly in my fries plate.
Share my toothbrush
and my bed like old times
- let us pretend
that nothing has changed.

Groggy Sunday morning
of Chilas
and Break-uppers, half way.
Mustard bed-sheet - full size -
and a nehru jacket for bae.
Peanuts in all flavours for lunch
- a craving for guava -
and always room for
frozen tender coconut.

Payment apps
and gym subscriptions
compared on the way
- a stitch fix for clothes -
monthly and bespoke.
A game of bulls
and cows,
and a reason to drink
before curfews.
quick goodbyes
with hugs to go
and a waiting black scorpio.

Hot engines,
stretchy hair caps,
dodge the lasers,
catch the light traps.
a gun called Marco
and the stench of childhoods
that are hard to let go.
pink bowling *****
and green nylon socks.
arcades smell like
sweat, ****** ale
and fries gone stale.
A catch up cigarette,
recording racing tins
before  midnight votes,
on who is to move in.
s Nov 2018
Egg
you sit on my back
like a chicken on an egg
with a mocking flap,
shuffle and a wiggle
tucked and stacked -
chuckle and a giggle.
both - joke and cuddle
- die as they're written though;
but could I risk to memory -
forgetting that tableau ?
--

as I sit to study
our curiosities -
creating patterns & poems
of contradicting absurdities;
listening to the jugalbandi
of predictability & tease,
instigating the battle
between curiosity & belief,
how we manoeuver differences
with a pursued kind of ease -
love sits quiet,
amused but revealed,
its appetite appeased -
with a wholesome kind of meal.
s Sep 2018
apathy, tolerance,
rage, and ambivalence-
nobody that I know
is happy for us.

happy and adored,
but I don't like me anymore;
for nobody that I love
is happy for us.

it's been quite telling
- happiness undressed -
her selfishness  
uncompressed.

but I am kind of relieved
for there's one less feeling to woo -
and to be happy alone - I no longer pursue.
s Jun 2018
your hug is like
that blood pressure gauge
- that slowly inflates
to check all my vitals;
or a dash charging socket
for all my circuits & bones
- twenty minutes -
for the battery to be whole.

cupping my feet on cold days,
and breathing into my toes
because these socks  have too many holes.
And on any day, you swivel me up
when I run into you for a no reason hug.

starting to forget how it would feel
to not have access to these tiny luxuries.

-
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