Coordinates

I remember the first time I traced your spine that felt like velvet. Memorised the coordinates of your collarbones with my nervous lip. I remember the laughter, the sweat, that unfamiliar. The glow of your skin, lighting my way home. Your eyes lit up like sparlers in November twilight, and guided me in line with… Continue reading Coordinates

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Lady of the Bus

Her skin may need an iron’s once over, Its pigment is brash and fuchsia. But she smiles more than she did back then, So why bother with that cosmetic nonsense? Her day’s dictated by today’s timetable. ‘Lost’ doesn’t exist, ‘it’s adventure’, she insists. Quarter to the hour, or ten past, The maze of her head,… Continue reading Lady of the Bus