Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing


You were a gift,
given to the undeserving.
Failed by everyone who found you,
helpless and hurt,
sleeping, still, after it ended,
as the fingers began to point,
alibis and excuses forming from thin air.
All those adults,
running from one narrative to another,
chasing their own escape,
never accepting that it would have been so easy to care, when they had the chance.
Sweet child,
who suffered so much,
you were a gift,
given to the undeserving,
painted in your pain,
as the endless night goes on,
and you wonder aloud if anybody loved you.
Your cries were heard,
far too late,
by far too few.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

This Isn’t An Apology, Because I Am Unrepentant, But It Is An Explanation

I wanted it to be beautiful,
but it never is,
just a scratched up, sour thought in the back of my mind,
a bittersweet beat that plays in my head,
ricochetting round each of my bones,
until my whole body is a song,
but, my God, it’s a sad one.

I never loved you,
but it broke me to leave you,
because all I had was a cassette full of my chaotic attempts to make it work,
and worthless words,
stanzas about standing up for myself,
promises to be true to myself,
which never happens,
no matter how many times I write it.

We were both unclean,
undone by our untruths,
and I can lie to myself again,
tell myself a tale about how it was justified,
because I have always had a role to play,
and it was all just a game,
so what does it matter if your touch told me to throw out a rehearsed response?
Who is really hurt if you got to sleep in the serene bliss of your afterglow,
and I got to pretend to be “normal” for six months?

I picked you,
because you reminded me of my first “boyfriend”,
who was a horrible bastard,
and in a mix of Catholic guilt and my own personal brand of penitence,
I decided I needed to be punished,
so I wrapped myself around you,
like a sweet, swindled snake,
surrounded you with starry eyed gazes,
that should have been sent to my true desire,
and I told you that I loved you,
because lying to men is my kink,
and I won’t be shamed in my own home.

I let you be the sun, for a second, so don’t be ungrateful.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Dying Wish

Smoke swirls from the soil,
because it’s over now.
The bullet is out from under the control of the gun,
burrowed into its brand new home.

I won’t keep you a secret.

My blood tells a story as the seconds slip away,
and I’m calling your name,
over and over, as if it’s all I can say,
and all I want is to see you,
in case I never do again.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter.

I used to hate how you wanted to “keep our private life private”,
because my whole life had been a succession of secret desires that were swallowed by shame and never spoken of,
and when I found you, I thought “My God. I want to sing her name from the rooftops”,
but your soft hands always found their way across my excited, melodic mouth,
kissing away my attempts to confess,
because of your complex about an ex who found it “overwhelming” to belong to you,
with all the scrutiny that it was accompanied by,
and as hard as I tried,
you’d never accept that I was made of stronger stuff.

That’s what love is.

Love is honest, sacrificial.
Love is “I’m going to kiss you because I have waited my whole life to do it, and I don’t care if someone else doesn’t like it.”
Love is lying in my own blood, using the last of my life to choke out your name, again and again, because you are all I have.
You are all I wanted.
You are all I waited for.

I won’t keep you a secret.
That is my dying wish.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Crash, Quietly

Dame un beso,
cheating death in the churchyard,
cariño, bésame,
while I’m still breathing and beautiful.

Our endless love will echo,
far past the tomorrows we will never see,
the sunsets we will miss,
it will last until the Earth ends,
and there is nothing but shards of stars,
trickling through what remains of the universe.

Love me, tonight,
slow and steady,
until we crash, quietly.