Receipt #35

Hundreds of rum fuelled memories in these bars: from the stupid times downing whatever pint while my sports team egged me on, the civillised cocktails dressed up to the nines with the girls as if we were on Sex and the City, the late night deep talks that went in to the early hours with…

Crossing you

I lose something every time I cross you: my breath, my ability to speak, my balance, even the thought of you has me crashing around and spilling things and being more careless particularly about my heart.

Our universe

Let me collapse in to your arms every night just like the galaxies do in to themselves, we can create our own universe between these sheets. 


He’s here, he’s around, you never were. Except his hand doesn’t fit mine like yours did, He smells nice yet I don’t inhale him, He’s tall like you but I don’t feel quite as safe in his arms, He hates biting, but you left marks all over my neck, He’ll hug me at the end…