Dysphoria

He chose me for my sadness, he told me; the challenge of it, of replacing the dead weight with life, my pallor with English rose. I know a project when I see one, he said, appraising my rib-caged flesh, my hollow eyes.  With each button opening, a mans desire. When he was done, I was sure I had counted each ceiling tile twice, compartmentalised each shade of white and grey, the slight mould of green in the left corner, the opal spider’s web on the right, the light flicker. My leaden legs shaking slightly with the weight of him; his breath in my ear. I wanted to slice him, groin to neck, and back again. But I soothed myself, my girly wiles, count to ten, then back again, Just remember to smile. 

We Found Wonderland

‘And in the end in wonderland we both went mad.’- T.S

It was that cheshire cat smile that did it

I was half in love, half afraid, I saw you through the looking glass

I would look at you like you were my favourite magic trick, a coin behind my ear, a tale on your tongue, how you held me close and licked your lips

We’re all mad here, you would say, your eyes crazed, a match between your sharpened teeth,

You could set yourself on fire and laugh, I am sure of it

But I was always too scared to tell you,

that I had seen madness,

but only in a boy from Pennsylvania

who didn’t know how to love me.

The Vacation Girl and The Men who Came to See Her

I am a dream holiday

A winning lottery ticket

A pre-suicidal Marilyn

Narcotic Beauty

They say, being with me is like chasing a fantasy

I’m always almost certain the novelty will wear off

What a curse it is, to be the type of woman who comes afterwards

to men who have already seen the world.

When you know he will go back to where he started off all along,

When you leave for vacation you always come home.

Millennial Love

Spoken word Poem.


I think if you were a better man you could have loved me better, but maybe we were just the worst thing that could have happened to each other.

I knew our millennial love was over in dust, when we started to talk about us in the past tense, and face away from each other when undressing and in bed, when we both pretended to be asleep, You couldn’t hold eye contact when we made love but yours were no longer the arms I would run to if our house, our life, our world  was burning down, my annoying habits were no longer endearing and you hated the sound of my laugh, how irritating  you were to me too, the relief when I kept thinking thank fuck we didn’t get married or get that joint bank account or have that baby we talked about when we were young and had less frown lines when life felt light the way only two people who are in love can feel it, I wonder how we got here, if it was me or you, but I hate the way you shout at me, at nothing sometimes, you are not handsome to me anymore, just unkind, stagnant, I don’t think I am as beautiful as when you met me, as when you loved me, I think that it is ok to age I think it is ok to walk away from love I think it is brave to look at someone  and say, I no longer love you, need you, want you,  I think it is ok to grieve  but remembering  grief always makes the other person seem better than what they were, like a saint on a pedestal with a light shining on them from above, fuck, I hope you find someone unlike me, I hope she is polar opposite even, and brings the light back into your eyes, the smile back to your lips, I hope you test the waters before you spend the rest of your life with someone else, I hope love find you when you aren’t looking and I hope the next one lasts, I hope the next one lasts.

The Italian Tree

The August heat came with love and chance

A melodic butterfly gasoir dance

And stolen kisses underneath that old tree

The sapling brought from Italy

The one which grew up with me.

Ah, this old, crooked, strange tree 

My mother loved to tell this story

how it could live for thousands of years

but would only ever bear fruit once.

What a gift it would be, in this lifetime

How wonderful, if the universe, aligned 

In chance, in beauty, in laughter.

And like a bumblebee to lavender

That Summer the fruit came and so did you, to me

Your mouth on my mouth under the Italian tree

Orange fruit, sweet, and we

Two love birds perched underneath.