Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Pedantic Preacher

Last night,

I dreamed I got on a bus to hell,

and by some chance,

had memories of you,

in my mind,

so there you stood,

nicely passing out the strings of my heart,

that you had collected over the years,

and I silently took them back,

when I could,

wondering how you got your mind back,

and if your dog was still alive,

and if you ever redid your living room,

and if your black shirt,

with the clear buttons,

was ever the same,

after I drowned it.

You wouldn’t answer my questions,

pedantic preacher,

of a faith I no longer hold,

cruel Sphinx that still lives to torture little girls,

who’ve learned so many lessons,

but never seems to pass exams.

I am frightened when I dream of you,

though I know you belong to the ocean now,

but when I see you,

I see bridges,


a religion that held me,

like a newborn baby,

then tossed me to the flames,

and I am livid,

lucid living,

in a delirious dream,

that I didn’t invite you to.


I will ask you again,

and as the room gets lighter,

when I’m closer to waking,

you will lean in close to answer,

kiss my cheek,

and then vanish.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

The Ghost That Haunts London City Airport

London city airport closed,

and I lived the past again.

I was waiting,

at the DLR station,

chasing a fantasy,

that you would arrive,

dreading my memory,

of your departure,

locking me back in your embrace,

peaceful silence,

in the rush of air traffic,

that transforms into foot traffic.

There was peaceful silence,

as you held me closer,

your fear leaking through your fingertips,

staining my coat,

with your regret,

our ancient love,

born again,

on an airport floor,

crawling and crashing,

around our legs,

as you held me,

in peaceful silence,

that did not exist,

as I stood at the DLR station,

remembering the dread of your departure,

every Friday night,

for what felt like forever.


knowing you would not return,

knowing you only thought of me,

when you craved red lingerie,

and redder lipgloss,

knowing I was a dealer,

too naive for the game.


ready to wait,

for a journey to end,

that had never started.

And now today,

twenty eight.

I do not wait,

and I haven’t seen the platform in years.

I haven’t watched the skies for you,

and I know I could find you,

if I wanted to,

because you came back,

but you couldn’t make it all the way,

and so,

I found a new place to haunt.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Confessions Of An Angsty Flyer

I am in the sky,

the past is a passenger with me,

as I listen to our phone call,

from last Friday,

where I lied,

letting you think that I didn’t write,

with tears in my eyes,

about you.

Blue eyes,

that I knew,

were blue,

that I love,

even when I am miles away,

that I dream of every night,

that I hope to never lose.

I am not bandaged in time,

this time.

I am flying,

feeling my heart skip,

each time I hear your voice,

knowing I would need more bandages,

if I didn’t have a piece of you,

to keep me on the path away from you.

We live in the same state of fear,

and I am panicked by your sighs.

We were fighting on Friday,

I was vague and unhelpful,

because I didn’t know how to tell you,

that I wanted to be in your arms,

but I feared being there,

in case things weren’t the same,

as they were before Friday,

and before every other day,

when I slip,

close to a cliff edge,


distant and dreary,

wondering if this is the time that I lose you.

I am listening to our phone call,

from last Friday.

I assume you didn’t know I kept them,

but they are close to my heart,

and essential to me staying sane,

when I cannot be close to you.

You asked me what was on my mind.

I acted like I was fine,

and I know it was annoying,

and I know I’m not supposed to say I’m annoying,

but I was wondering,

yet again,

when it would be the last time,

I will be your hunnybee.

If you’ll love me,

a day,

a week,

a lifetime longer.

I was wondering,

when I would lose you,

because I can’t believe you’re mine.