The hard nights

She had forgotten

the thud

of unwanted thoughts

and clattering

of forgotten memories

imprisoned wails

escape her lips

and a tear

finds it's path

over oily skin,

She regresses

Clutching hands

over her chest

foetal on

virtuous sheets

whispers

in sweet blackness

promise the end

encourage light

but

she can't see

further than

the end

of her nose.

Autumn leaves

You changed

Autumnal

so slowly

from an envious green

with life in your veins

to walking away

fleeting yellow

kicking leaves up

as though problems

could be lost

in the crisp gold

I didn't feel

the bitter cold

I didn't try to pull

my coat close

or twirl a scarf

around my neck

until the morning

my fingers turned blue

and the leaves

were sodden

with rain

and trodden

into cracks

in the pavement

reminding me,

under grey skies,

Autumn leaves.

1am

Sitting on a window ledge

In the early hours

An exhaust backfired

He watched the smoke spiral

Towards the

Sunset street lights

And wondered

About people

so disposable.

Drunk on memory

He shifted

On the edge of belief.

Concrete hope

was all that held him.

Strident laughter

cut through the silence

But he failed

to see the funny side.

Paper worlds

Like artists

On a clean sheet

Of stark white paper

we map the world

Small at first

dark outlines

pushing the pencil

deep markings

metallic trails

of the certain.

We branch out

into sketchier dreams

the swirls

of future plans

eraser marks

and fresh rubbings

the silver smudging

of change

on hands and wrists

Only when we think

It's all perfect,

that we have our eyes

on all the shadows

Will someone spill

Sunday morning tea

Staining it,

ageing it,

Then we colour over

the lines.

Moving on

Moving on,
Is like watching
the sun
rise high above
last nights clouds
smelling the rain
from the storm
that kept you up
until sunrise.
It's seeing the beauty
in the pink
and orange
and lavender haze.
It's deciding to
wake up early
to coffee
and the fresh pages
of an unopened book.
It's knowing
that today
might be the same
as the day before it
but smiling anyway
because
you were alive
to see
the blank canvas
of new
unknown
days.

Klein

There is no glamour

in the sad imprints

of your thighs

spread wide

licked with blue

and forced against

Klein's sheets.

There is no pride

in immortalising

Your mother's body

In midnight stains

Losing yourself

in the canvas

Breathless

The fumes leave you dizzy,

Sticky and exhilarated,

You lay back

Ready for the other side.

Park Mornings

Ignorance

became her friend

the night

of broken bones

her ally

as she sat

in the new hours

drinking wine

from a

green-necked bottle

her lips stained

with unstolen kisses

It was

most beautiful

to see the sunrise

Over an innocent day

And nothing lovelier

than the way

escape looked

in the shadows

under her eyes.

Rag doll girl

Rag doll

emotionless

ridiculous

bending at your

every will

Cracked voices

in the silence

couldn't contain

the obvious pain

realising

the toxicity

of you

yet knowing

I would not

just

give

up.

Ten minutes ago

intertwined

we laughed

tears unlike these

Before I whisper

Please?

And you dismiss

with another kiss

I concede

once more

I plead

but you slam

another door

in my face,

I wont let it

lie.

I leave

Early morning

crisp nicotine

heart beat

pumping regret

into hate filled veins

Broken glass

under bare feet

A lethal concoction,

I am not

your rag doll

a promise

I still

don't

believe

Twisted urges

It might 3am
I want you
Whoever you are
Devouring
My crazed desire
Carnal

Any strong hands 
Around my neck
Craving
A fight
for air
I no longer deserve

I romanticise 
The sharp gasp
at the sweet
sting of skin
in once hidden places

Almost silent
At the delicious pulling
of come to bed hair

Longing 
For that satisfying
Pulse weakening
oxygen starved
Bliss.

Small Dreams

The broken

For a moment

allows herself

to fall in love

with perfect strangers

She dreams

of slow dancing

with faceless men

she'll never know

She lowers her guard

just enough

to see a future

with the stranger

on the 36

Who promises

with his eyes maybe

or a half smile

to love her

between King Street

And Tanners End

Metamorphosis

Huddled into a warm flesh cocoon

You quietly said

                                                      I want to fly now.

I looked down at you, little caterpillar

Safe in my arms

Nestling my nose into your hair

I can’t let you go

                                                      I want to fly now, you said.

Changing eyes

You’re lost, little caterpillar

You want to be beautiful?

You already are to me

Metamorphosis

You don’t need these split brown arms,

Peeling skin tears into a smile

You are my little caterpillar

                                                       Fly free.

There are days

There are days
When we can see
the sunlight
 hitting the terracotta brickwork
There are days
when we smell
stale cigerettes
honey and lemon
and yesterday's tea
There are days
where we need not speak,
Sandpaper silence
says everything
you really mean
There are days
Where my head
loses it's self
in a plethora
of want

There are days
when I feel
nothing

And days

When I pray
For more days.

Hull Paragon Interchange

The Interchange

Is like a movie scene.

People everywhere

And yet I'm alone

Clutching a lukewarm Coffee

Everyone perks up to listen

the train woman's monotone song.

the 3:05 to Sheffield

will now depart from Platform six.

And not the one

with the black circular benches

That I had claimed

For the last 15 minutes.

I scurry with my three bags

bouncing off each other

to the rhythm of the next verse.

This train is formed of 5 coaches

A little boy

Trips on the sand coloured floor

And he cries

As his mother tries

to collapse a pushchair.

A small black screen blinks

orange letters

Places, times, platforms

But I don't stop to read

Train woman goes on,

First class is situated

Towards the rear of the train.

I stop on Platform six

Watching the train pull in

The windows are beaded with rain

And for a moment

I'm thankful for

The ridiculous arched roof.

The doors open with a hiss

then a clunk

As the end of the station song

Tells me that

An at seat service is

available on the train.