The shoe box of not-letting-go.

My childhood room is full to bursting. Odd socks, long faded jeans and a thousand scraps of the past I can’t quite bear to throw away. Tacked to the mirror is a grainy polaroid of me and my sister, gappy toothed grins on Grandpa’s old boat. There is a scratch map of the world that…

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The Village

I’m home. After four years of dancing until 6am and walking home in sunshine, cramming for endless exams in the creaking, soft lit library and wrapping myself in a holey blanket to watch Planet Earth with a packet of biscuits in each hand and a bottle of wine on the table, I have returned to…

forget you.

I have to forget you. I just can't bear to think. Of how a toothpaste grin Met my blurry eyes Across the grubby bathroom sink We can't talk anymore. I just can't bear to think. Of how you'd hold me tight Like your raggy doll My tentacle toes on your skin I don't cry very much.…

The evidence of you

The evidence of you, Is written all across my bones, Etched deep inside with sharp-edged flint, And it aches when my breath goes cold. There's a chip in my bedroom paint, Where your picture tacked to the wall, And tea stains on my crinkled sheets, From breakfast way past afternoon. I catch you in a strangers scent, On the…