drink me.

She reaches for it.

It doesn’t so much as say “drink me” but it taunts her nevertheless.

This will be it. Her last drink. Again. Continue reading drink me.

All or Nothing

Photo courtesy of Matthew Smith.

You play me like a game. I’m a pawn in your chess match and you change the rules as we go. But, like a fool, I’m in too deep and I’m blind to the Game Master’s corruption.

“You’re in this. All or nothing.” But all and nothing seemingly fits much more appropriately. I’m risking it all and I know I will win nothing.

Like a chip, I’m flicked away again and again as you hope for a better deal, unsatisfied with these cards that you’ve been dealt. I’m trapped in your slot machine and I’m dizzy as I spin.

But, darling, this isn’t Monopoly and I’m not your “get out of jail free” card and I don’t owe you any rent. You can’t decide to mortgage me and you can’t decide to trade me for Park Lane.

I’m not your pawn to move as you please and I refuse to abide by your rules as if I’m dictated by your disease.  Gone are the days of manners, “no thank you” and “yes please”. I can see through your disguise but can you hear through my cries? This is no longer a no-win situation and I refuse to fall victim of this state of stagnation.

Continue reading All or Nothing

Decay. Slip.

It was the kind of love that was forever nearing the edge; one slip and it would all be gone. And the slip came too soon; she was hanging on, fingers numb and pale, before she had the chance to ever even apologise. Or maybe she never would have apologised, because people like her had the world at their fingertips but spoke with a poisonous tongue, tainting and rupturing all things good, bright, and warm. Continue reading Decay. Slip.


You warned me that my burning desire would not match your burning heat. You warned me that l would fall if I ever chose to fly too high. You warned me that love always meant falling, and reminded me that I’m afraid of heights.

But, just as Icarus loved his sun, I too ignored the lectures and flew too close. It didn’t matter that I loved you in wavelengths of red and blue because your aluminium wrap thwarted them from ever breaking through. The sad truth is, I can’t help but think we’ve been here before, because despite any attempts to ground you, the sun rises each and every morning and my love for it is relentless; forever flying too close. Continue reading Icarus


And I fell; deeper into the darkness, deeper into his arms. I should have known that everything that falls ends up broken. Continue reading Fracture

Unwritten and Restricted

A limerick, described simply as “a humorous five-line poem with a rhyme scheme of aabaa“.

But, tell me, what’s so humorous about a writer who doesn’t possess the ability to condense their thoughts into five measly lines? I’m no Hemingway.

What is funny about a wordsmith who can’t smith words when the maths of calculating syllables is involved? I scraped a C in Maths, after all. Continue reading Unwritten and Restricted

Untangle Your Vines

I’m sure by now you’ve heard those poems, dictated by the imagery of flowers symbolising love and loss. A rose, apparently a symbol of both love and death, suggests that two contradictions might even be synonymous.

I suppose you’ve read the tear stained pages of a girl in love and how a boy so selfishly planted seeds in her lungs that grew into the vines of vast wisteria, strangling her and suffocating her.

The tell-tale sign that determines whether somebody loves you, “he loves me, he loves me not”, became a notoriously bulletproof method as quickly as the leaves withered from the poor flower; the victim of such criminal poetry. Continue reading Untangle Your Vines