Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Michael H

I bought you a cherry cola when we stopped for gas outside the city borders,
you looked bored, my shades atop your head,
my bubble gum lost in your jaws,
until, of course, you saw the Adonis behind the counter, saving for college, blushing a little, but flashing a smile,
as you waved like Queen Cleopatra.

Your eyeliner was messy,
because you’d slept in it,
but you had drawn a fresh heart on your left cheek,
convinced that it’s presence,
in red felt tip,
would attract a great love into your lonesome life,
along with the star that lived on the right side of your face,
that we had decided would bring you fame (or an asteroid that could be named after you, which is basically the same thing for two kids).

You asked me the hot checkout guy’s name,
pouting for at least an hour when I said I didn’t know,
barely talking,
but boldly singing to the radio all the way home.
Bay City boy,
with a smile and some sarcasm for everyone you meet,
lay down on the grass with me,
when the sun is high,
and the shadow of Independence Bridge feels even taller.
Just stay with me,
and look bored,
so bored and so beautiful.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

The Vanity Of The Violet Divinity

I am lost in my reflection,

painting away my pain,

ebony across my eyelids and pink paint on my soft lips.

This is just the vanity of the violet divinity,

with my eyelashes thunderous and thick,

throat full of codeine that tampers with my whisky dreams.

Dreams where I am not defined by what I see,

because I just feel sweet peach lights dancing all across my skin,

soft violins play out the sun set,

and I am so beautiful.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Rose Bushes

My nail polish is chipped,
but I am cheery,
chasing the high of my garden defying the odds and blooming before my eyes.

There is a child round my waist,
chipper and cherub cheeked,
asking for ice cream,
with pleading brown eyes that I recognise as my own.

Then there is you, Blue,
prying the boy from my body,
careful not to crush the rose bushes with his flailing legs,
as you take him off to the freezer,
like you used to do with me.

I am so satisfied.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing


The walls have a warmth to them,

because you are standing and staring at them,

spilling sunshine and asking my opinion on paint swatches.

I am overwhelmed.

There are so many walls.

So many rooms.

I have so little to give,

just my dresses in a bent and struggling cardboard box,

and as much of my vinyl collection as we could carry from the car.

There is a waterfall erupting all over my shoes,

because the boy is making it clear that he would like to see the warm walls.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Lover Girl

Let me live, my lover girl.
Don’t let me get lost,
don’t let
lose it all,
don’t let
lose my mind.

OOPS! it’s already gone,
and I’ve given you my heart,
with your initials carved in each curve and crevice.
Oh my love,
is it really such a disgrace,
to fall in love,
to stay in love,
to find new madness in the estate of my affections every morning,
when I wake up in your arms,
and my body grows and glows,
fertile and full of emotion?

Let me live for you, my lover girl,
and the life I find inside of me.
oops! it’s already done.