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The Crow
The crow calls into the night, the moon is morose, inconvenienced by inconsolable skies, that burst into tears every few minutes. Silver spills from the sky onto the city streets, empty pavements that expect company, but are always disappointed. Trees are titans, towering above benches made from their branches, watching over their children, as the…
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Qué Triste Luce Todo Sin Ti
When I am happy, I think about loss. It never leaves me, even when I ask politely, because I don’t know how to function, without fucking things up for myself. I’m the kind of girl who wants things too much, and I told him that, right from the start (well, the second time we met),…
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Ooh, Matron!
Weak under warm blankets, enjoying the magic of my fingers, softly stroking your hair, lips pressed against your volcanic temple, as I worship my wounded warrior. I hold you close, hearts in chaotic sync, I breathe in time with your sleeping symphony, Mary Seacole of the twenty first century, silently speaking your name, as if…
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Doomed At Birth To Live In Tights and Sit On Old Men’s Laps
At birth, I was cursed, laying, lonely in a crib, as darkness descended, on the brightest of days. I could never be alone, but I could never find someone solid, doomed to waste a life, waiting for my welcome to be rescinded (it always is). Flowing dresses, tights that tempt, reminding them of nights when…
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Pluviophile: Mental Health Poetry
Hola amigos, Some of my poetry has been featured in the brand new anthology from Dark Poets Club, Pluviophile: Mental Health Poetry. Copies can be purchased here, and the proceeds will be donated to various mental health charities, and will be used in awareness campaigns for mental health. Besos, J x Pluviophile: Mental Health Poetry