Poetry Collection

The Radio Plays

I don’t know this song, but I’ve heard it before.

The radio plays a melancholy tune.

There are no verses, and there are no words,

Only the tinkering of piano keys.

The soft notes take up space in my head.

Each note is a knife,

Every key stings.

I don’t know this song,

But I know it too well.

My heart sinks,

The radio plays.

A Shape to Shift

We are all shapeshifters;

My favourite shape is the one I form when I’m with you

It is not whole, pure, or beautiful.

It is not refined or over-complicated by design.

The exterior is not rigid;

there is no need for armour.

A List of Small Hopes (for you and me)

If someone is going to break my heart,

I hope I’m the one to do it.

I hope I’m the one to mend it,

Just to break it again.

I hope they never save you.

And for God’s sake, I hope you never save me.

But I hope you think of me from time to time.

Like when the early morning sun hits your window

Or when you hear that song.

You know the one.

The one you never get right.

I hope you never get it right.

I hope the coffee is good,

Room temperature,

Not too sweet.

I hope you never lose your voice.

I hope your head stays above high water

An may the words never come easy

For you and me.

I hope there is always a struggle.

Everything feels better when it hurts.

I hope it’s not raining where you are.

Unless you wanted rain.

In that case, I hope.

It’s pouring.

A Portrait of A Sad Woman

Maybe I should stop

Perhaps I should stop drinking day-old coffee

From mugs on my desk

There’s no milk or sugar

It’s just black coffee

But it has probably been sitting there

Since Tuesday—maybe

Staining my mug

My favourite mug

That’s disgusting

Maybe I am disgusting

Maybe

I am disgusting

Little Storms Everywhere

I’m sorry I broke that frame.

It’s a cheap excuse to break things out of anger.

I’m sorry, it was your favourite picture.

But at least the glass didn’t puncher the glossy paper.

I’m sorry about the lightning.

I’m sorry for all this thunder.

I’m sorry for these little storms.

A Sleepless Night Brought Me Here

I couldn’t sleep.

So I sketched my future.

On the back of an old receipt.

I keep it in my empty wallet.

When it rains, I unfold its creases,

I read the faded graphite

I am reminded

That this second is

Temporary.

A Blow to The Teeth

A winner doesn’t learn a thing.

The scrapper can take a blow to the teeth,

And gets back up even if no one is watching,

And the crowd is long gone.

Strange Dreams

I dream strange dreams.

Of what might have happened

If you and I met at a different time

Or another place,

Or maybe in a different

Reality.

This reality is heavy.

I crawl through these strange dreams.

On bloody knees

I have this idea of you

I rest on the image

Of what could have been

From the Grave Digger

It’s the first snowfall of a dying year

It’s damp and cold,

The heater stopped working.

Just your luck.

You’re upset again.

The skin around your fingernails is

Bloody and torn.

But promise me, one thing, kid,

Be upset, but don’t dig your grave,

It’s a tough season, not a bad life.