I'm fine

Said she was okay
Her feelings buried
Somewhere
Underneath the facts
They lurk there now
Waiting
Later they will pounce
From the shadows of her subconscious
And bite her ankles

Turquoise Sun

Your skin lingers on my fingers
As I trace the patterns on your back
Hanging slightly from your form

Your turquoise sun has faded
The ink runs from your skin
Less than welcome now

A celebration of freedom and naivety
Its meaning shifted
Sometime in the past

You toast to liberty and risk
Flaunting me in front of your friends
Confess after your fears of loneliness

Hanging between stability
And desire
You risk a lot for this

This is about you

She asked me why I was smiling
And I said I like this song.
I like the sepia pigeons and the street sweepers,
Up to their elbows in dust.
I like the rain curls in your hair:
Smoke strewn across your face.

For each of you

You smell like wet leather,
Old smoke, coffee,
Sweat,
Intermittently applied perfume,
Illicit affairs & jazz music.

You smell musty,
Like you don’t see much sun,
Sweet with the designer perfume,
Like sticky smoke and long nights out,
Like comfort and lazy mornings.

You smell of the perfumed soap
That she left in your flat,
Like summer nostalgia,
Like hard days work,
And long nights alone.

You smell like your cat
When she bathes in the sun.
Of foreign countries that call to you.
Like bouts of insomnia
And paranoia.

You smell of skin cream,
Of workouts indoors,
Of dry cleaning,
Of paranoid care regimes
To defy time.

You smell of busy clubs,
Pretty girls,
Expensive cocktails,
Foreign cologne,
And your mothers cooking.