Posted in Writing, Blog, Creative Writing

Call For Submissions!

Hola amigos,

I’m currently working on a really exciting project, and I am looking to feature LGBT+ poets. I am looking for LGBT+ poets who would be interested in sharing readings of their own work, or readings of their favourite poems, as well as LGBT+ poets who would be interested in being interviewed.

Submissions are open worldwide.

If you are interested, please complete your details here.

Besos,

J x

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Let There Be Love

Sometime around my seventeenth birthday,

in fact,

exactly on my seventeenth birthday,

I was sat,

crowded by people who loved me,

staring down a cake,

that made me anxious,

making a wish,

for someone else to love me,

differently,

obviously.

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I wasted a wish,

on a waste of time,

waiting for too long,

for the wrong kind of love,

because I wasn’t worldly enough,

to see it for what it was.

When I closed my eyes,

to ask everything around me,

for the birthday gift nobody could give me,

I heard the last minute or so,

of Let There Be Love,

like I always did,

when I looked at you,

and for a second,

I thought it might come true.

 

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Go To Waste In The Wrong Arms

I guess I never learned to paint my nails properly,

like everything in my life,

I can’t quite keep between the lines,

but you don’t seem to mind.

You tell me they look nice,

and your voice,

soft and reassuring,

is all the convincing I need,

to keep splattering black nail varnish,

in the vague direction of my nails,

with half gay abandon,

(In case you didn’t know, I’m bisexual, and it’s basically the rules that I have to loudly announce it as often as possible).

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I’m painting my nails,

with only a Morrissey vinyl for company,

waiting for you to call,

though I know you’re busy today,

and I’m setting myself up for a mid evening crash,

where I lay under my covers,

refuse to eat dinner,

(which isn’t nearly as dramatic when you are the only person who’ll notice if YOU don’t get up and make dinner for yourself),

and cry myself to sleep,

because like Tinkerbell,

Rachel Berry,

and instagram influencers,

(and I suppose, Morrissey, although, I am TRYING not to give into him at this point)

I need attention to live,

and darling,

I am DYING.

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One can’t exactly go to waste in the wrong arms,

if no arms come to call.

I’m sorry to be so obvious,

but my loneliness is life and death.

That’s how we almost lost Britney,

and you wouldn’t want that end for me,

surely?

My nails still look a mess,

Morrissey is almost done,

and thank God,

because I feel guilty even letting him,

and what he became into the house,

and,

of course,

you haven’t called,

so I’m going to the park,

to cry under the stars,

for a change of scenery.

 

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Halloween Hell

You held me close,

holding a halloween mask to your face,

hoping your costumed bravery would not betray you,

on the sofa,

suffering from a racing heart,

racy thoughts,

to distract you from the dark screen,

dark dreams.

Suffering for me,

your desensitised darling,

Halloween hell,

that lasts all year,

but lives in heaven.

You haunt my heart.