I didn't fall apart the way I expected, which surprised me. There is grief, yes, pain, yes, a narrowing, long ache in the chest, yes - but also a strange openness, where breath continues like a horizon, persisting without permission against the sea-line of each hour. It is true, what they say - that suffering is not a cliff but a slope. You lean into it deeply, stare up at its summit, adjust your footing, stumbling and screaming against the Sisyphean Hell of it but you move t

I unbury the girl, drag her tiny limbs from the earth-rot in my chest where I keep her hidden.     She wakes with a sharp sob, toddles aimlessly in the dark room, then folds onto the floor under the heavy shell on her back & cannot muster the strength to get up again.   So, I soothe her, holding myself softly by the ribs at night, until a dawn-haze floods the room, lifting the shell off her unscathed, fleshy body, as we face each other naked in the light.   Her name is my nam

The evergreen and the deciduous yearn for one another’s company, To intertwine their vines as one again. Starved of touch and camaraderie, They age with April’s adolescent ache. Delay their reunion, I say. Let me pluck the leaves from each branch before they get chance. Paint them as burnt and iridescent of an orange, To confound the crowns of the trees, And the scents of the soil, So they surrender their seasonal resurrection to you. And bow quietly, they will, To your garde

Anger is without doubt one of the most fundamental human emotions we possess and yet, somehow it is also one of the most politically...

All night, the vines held tight to the trellis, struggling green fingers strangling wood, grape-bodies hanging heavy, their skins...

There it was: the twisting, rusting, metallic ruin of my past whose oily creases shimmered iridescent against the onyx of half-forgotten...

Morning's playful light dances easy through your blinds as willow warblers chime in on the dawn-song of the robin and wisteria...

Press play before reading "Yes. They’ll forget us. Such is our fate, there is no help for it. What seems to us so serious, significant,...

At long last the tidal wave was over and I slinked out of my girdled mind like the inner body of a snake escaping its tight, battered...

The Naughty Step To be intelligent enough to introspect is to become burdened with inspecting the illusion of your intellect. Mum doesn’t...

Lingering on the stairwell, I promise to walk away, knowing that the door must shut for these windows to open. Being sentimental, and...

After Chelsea DesAutels Start this one with the woman falling from the sky. Or the building - it doesn't matter. What matters is she's...

I walked and walked but I didn't get small. My blisters didn't heal but my belief in you shrunk, and, yes, I have always wanted to know...

Admist the noise of the past 12 hours, I never expected a stranger's nonchalant Tweet to affect my mood the most... Perhaps it’s my...