He had a tearjerking smile
A temper,
A medal,
An offering of soap
And a knack for loyalty.
In letters
He called me
Old Sport.

And she
Was a film star
Who could paint.



So close, dearheart,
Flowers and gin –
Lioness, lioness,
Lion steps in.

(Beehive underground,
We cannot interfere with nature –
And what a pity.)

3 words

I’ve tickled it into his naked back,
When he’s fucking me it spools around my tongue,
I devote myself with every playful smack –
And harder still when certain smacks have stung.

I never thought I’d fall for such a man,
Who smuggles love like drugs inside a coat,
I love loudly just because I can,
The words collect like songbirds in my throat –

Or three boats arranged into a fleet,
To sit behind a hesitating sky,
Sulking with the shyess of retreat,
Billowing with every loaded sigh.

(still not finished, needs work – written about my hesitation to say ‘I love you’ to someone who isn’t soppy enough to enjoy being told)

Things I have apparently said to my boyfriend whilst on Ambien.

Please sex go on love ya ,
Mother Theresa and I are like this.
I am a snort.
That painting is moving!
Get beer.
Why are there so many Romans here?
Why is there meat?
I am breaking through this wall.