Conversation on Love


Writing poetically (or not poetically, just writing) about being in love and falling in love seems to be a stumbling block for me at the moment. This is not because I haven’t felt love; I’ve felt love abundantly, like a sugar bomb exploding in my gut. I’ve loved so much my cells ached and I was one thread away to falling apart if I wasn’t with them… note to self, this wasn’t a healthy love and didn’t end well.

Can you end love well?

The last relationship I was in, what can I say, it was intense. We met in America while I was on holiday. Me being British and he being American, maintaining a long distance relationship was top 3 of our priorities. It’s a way of loving I wasn’t familiar with. Our expression came purely through conversation; we stimulated each other with ideas, curiosities, and verbal explorations. If we argued we had to talk about it, we couldn’t play the card of saying we’re fine but the ridged body language expressing otherwise. We had to find ways to communicate exactly how we were feeling and not skate around the houses because like I said, we knew it was hard enough loving each other with such a distance between us. The effort to understand was magnified; this is why I believe the intensity between us was so strong. We saw each other physically for three months out of ten– crazy right? Point is despite the four-hour conversations each day and knowing each other on a level that surpassed physical cravings (shit, that was tough too because the cravings were strong) it ended really badly. Hateful words were exchanged and a complete cut off had to happen (of course it helped that we lived in different countries, I knew there was no supermarket I had to avoid or “has he a girlfriend yet” friends to harass). At the time, I thought what bad luck but it’s not luck at all is it? We attract into our lives what we feel we deserve and a highly intense, dramatic, physically starved and painful relationship was exactly what my subconscious was craving. Have I just answered my own question of ‘can you end love well?’ It seems no, I can’t. I’ve never parted from love on a high note but I’m sure there are people who have. Hats off to them.

Love is fucking complicated, we all know that, maybe the reason I’m finding it so difficult to write about love is because I’ve always thought loving outside of myself as the unifying force but I’m realising, it’s not. If times were good in the relationship, I was high on pink skies. If they were bad, I was drowning beneath murky waters. It’s like waiting for someone else to tell you exactly what you should be feeling that day – which, if I’m honest, is a power I’ve given way too many people over the years. It sounds crazy when I write it down but how easy is it to slip into the habit of handing the responsibility of your own life to others? Very. I never once thought about the words I used during self-talk or how I truly felt about the woman I am. My belief, if you can call something you’re not actively thinking about a belief, was I am who I am and I don’t need to give it much thought. News flash, I do!

All my relationships have taught me something but they have nothing on the lessons I’m learning as I begin to love myself.

Love myself, really really love myself. It has a wonderful ring to it, doesn’t it?

So, could it be that writing about love is a confusing topic for me right now as I’m discovering new territory. Self-love is a world away from lessons taught at school, we can learn about Tudor times yet not how to process our human emotions but hey, when are we gonna need emotions, right? We see how others are being treated, some we know, some through media coverage and Love seems lost in space with thousands of stray satellites, just forgotten. It seems that loving ourselves, honouring ourselves, accepting every part of who we are, well it’s a whole new language! So that’s it, I’m finding writing about love a floundering task because I’ve not quite learnt the language yet, bingo! I’m studying, everyday and more often than not it’s a trying process but its starting to make a little more sense. I can feel I’m honouring more, understanding more and truly embracing those uncomfortable sides of me that I’ve pretended didn’t exist.

I’m beginning to think that loving ourselves is the only role we have to master during our time on Earth because if we can get that right, the rest just seems to fall into place.

Texas Monologues – Part 1



You left on a Sunday

You walked out the door of the B&B on a Sunday morning heading back across the pond.

We’d been in Texas for over a week

The holiday wasn’t over for me and according to our plane tickets and the calendar on my iPhone, we had another week left.

I begged for you to stay

Not because I wanted you

At this point I don’t even think I liked you

I wanted to feel suffocated by your apologies, not premature goodbyes

Is anything ever premature?

It happens when it happens

When its time, its time

Anyway, that’s a whole separate mind fuck

“Get it together”

You said

“You always get what you want. I’m not pandering to your tears”

No shit Sherlock

And fuck you!

You were leaving me

In the middle of our holiday

And taking the car

In rural Texas


And could you have left after I’d put some clothes on?

Au revoir naked I’ll-delete-your-number-later lady

Why do we feel most vulnerable when we’re naked?

Skin is our most permanent accessory.

You never shied away from telling me I had soft skin

And then you go and grate chucks from me with your corrugated intentions

Had I chosen to ignore this newly apparent drill sergeant you were so capable of imitating?

To answer my own question, yes I had.

It wasn’t newly apparent at all

You’d not changed since the day we met

See, you were a being that I’d never known the likes of before

My lust for you was driven by curiosity

Nothing more

What can I say?

I’m springtime heat

Forcing new buds to blossom

That’s me

And you played the game

You said I was medicine

Your bottle of pop carbonating flattened enthusiasms

Well I’ve got news Mr

I’m done being consumed

I’m no longer the syrup to coat your wounded memories



On a Sunday


You leaving

A shaken bottle of fizzy gonna spray

Burst even

Was this intentional?

I have been blind to this malicious act



Who am I kidding?

No I wasn’t

I knew

And you weren’t malicious, you were just afraid of a life already lived

And shit, what a life you’d led

My role as victim was convincing

And maybe I’d chosen the scariest looking ride

Because I collect thrilling stories to retell

Proof, of something


You leaving

Best damn decision ever made

Thank you, from the bottom of my explosive heart

It was because of you that I jumped out of my comfort pot and stayed, alone

And met new people

Tremendous people

And I was properly introduced to the woman I am

Yes, I am thrilling

Without the help of fairground rides

I’ve got more stories

But not to prove anything

So Thank you


This note ends here but my stories don’t

I’ll continue to tell them

Just not to you.




Today was different

Most mornings the north wind would catch my tail

Reining enthusiasm

If ever it surfaced

Frost biting my red lips

Would carve tender valleys

And tiresome yawns would induce morning contractions

Pains encouraged by existence

I was heading places mostly undesired

But there was safety in the familiar

Most mornings

Short burst of breath kept me from melting

Melting into the ocean where undiscovered depths were calling

Begging almost

To have me settle amongst ancient bones


Buried under the cold sands of icy waters

Most mornings

Callous layers

As I shed

Would trail behind the morning sun

By dusk

I was bound

Tangled between damaged threads

For the moon would do her best

To unravel

To rebirth

To encourage unwanted fragments

Absorbing her enchantments

Braiding together my left to right

But my flesh was worn

And I was stubborn

Muscles aged

Devoured over the years

Digested before they even existed

Yet below noticed horizons

Homed a spirit I’d thrown to the lions

To be ripped


But entangled claws drew to me a fierceness I’d yet to witness

Until today

Hungry palms clasped the steering wheel

Locked limbs

Dismantled patterns of escape

Sparks of severed obligations

Disappeared under wheels in motion

And my hair

Sensing hidden mists

Rising wildly to ignite dampened curls

Freely rode the wind

As my limbs relaxed

And ruling boundaries

Were broken

I was new

My palms grazed upon lush possibilities

I was hungry no more

Purged from me was the need

To know

For I knew nothing

And today

Resurrected curiosities

Met the very edges of my wonderment

Today I drove

Guided by sirens once stifled


Nowhere I knew

And I was free to bury myself below sacred waters

Amongst the bones

My bones

Today I was free





Because I’m A Woman


Because I’m a woman

I weep


I feel


Wisdom soaks my morning prayers

Forget intellect

I woke up


I did that, no one else

Stifled by words, sometimes

But not my words

And to know the difference

Is key.

Because I’m a woman

I bleed

To shed

Not die

I bleed to renew

To birth

Again and again

To birth new linings

And cushion precious beads

Because I’m a woman

I may worry what others think

When hair blesses my body

And I leave it alone

But not worrying enough

To intervene

With art

A rawness


Stripping layers of education

Of how one should be

In being

Fuck should


Is enough

Because I’m a woman

I delight myself

My own touch

Stroking flesh

My breasts, enjoyed

Just because

It feels good

My shell responds so sweetl

To me

Never alone

Each night it is me who brings love to bed


Because I’m a woman

I sting

When I want to

I fight

When I need to

I pull myself apart

Rip chunks of rotten doings

Rotten sayings

From the core of me

Yet my own forgiving hands

Catch misshapen identities

To bring home

To sculpt back

There is nothing insignificant about me

Because I am a woman.



Where does my fear settle, in the replay?

Your lip bitten after creased sheets graced our morning rituals.

Your lip bitten


Aggressions, agreed, accepted

Smiles creeping into hidden expressions, you sensed, you asked and heads tilt as we exchange permission.

Deep dwellings, so deep we fall to lands visited by no other, our souls swinging to familiar beats. We knew the score, had we met once before?

Am I fearless hoping that we had?

Yes, I was first to wrench the dagger but torn skin plagued us, blood poured the night we met. Mars tinted Moon and dirt tracks patiently waiting for our muddied boots. Graves were dug, twists and hurricane howls knew the way, tripping our step, tumbling effortlessly towards the full stop. We played our parts well, a deafening applaud awaited our bow as not one line forgotten. Never so easy to perfect such manipulations but damn, we were good.

Am I fearless doing nothing?

Bewildered in the vacuum of now, without you.

Breathing, only movement I can muster. A finger may flinch as my mind turns to tomorrow but God, please bring me yesterday.

Noticing me

Did you notice me

When I walked in wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans – I just didn’t give two craps this morning. Wild gonna shine anyway and this fierce mane, plaited, tamed, will unravel come sundown ready for moonlit serenades and ritual explorations. You just wait.

Did you notice me

When I ordered an orange juice and swallowed two round pills for an ache that just ain’t ceasing. A problem I’ll never ask you to solve, a problem not even a problem but living in a square world gonna trip up any woman thinking in circles.

Did you notice me

When I sat and pulled out my notebook and pen to scribble. Scribbling scribbles I do pretty well, you wanna read my stuff? No problem, I’ll firm my wrist to smooth crinkled words, readable, for you. Staining pages ain’t always easy, and reading forced sentiment even harder. Been easy to hide behind confusions, until now.

Pen don’t work

Did you notice me

When I asked to borrow a pen? You smiled and said, “I don’t carry ink” … well I don’t blame you; it’s a futile habit. Language lost in those dimples anyway.

Did you notice me

Staring at the stars reflected in your brand new shoes. I ain’t never seen shoes so shiny, well if I have I don’t remember ‘um like I remember yours. A whole universe bows at your feet, including the asteroid belts restricting my view.

Did you notice me

Inviting ghosts, those left behind. Echoes often ignored weave their way home. They say you loose yourself in moments like these but shared glances raised forgotten cities.

I noticed you

An enchanting exhibition, pencil lines of perfection – damn, there’s artistry in those genes. Turquoise spells would bestow our children, if I wanted children, which I don’t but we’ll talk about that as we explore rivers and spirited mountains, together.

Did you notice me

Planning eternity within the pause of a breath. No need for marriage, contracts are for bricks and mortar. Our love coasts the summer breeze, comforting, dwelling upon warm sands. As clouds morph through the sunset, our love grows. Crescendos ain’t a necessity; I’ve dived into violent waters before.

Did you notice me

Playing calm, not wanting to draw too much attention, obviously my purr was too faint. You didn’t notice me, footsteps you’ll forget and shiny shoes heading someplace new. You left with no precious exchanges, carrying nothing of me as I inscribe the entire fucking manuscript of you. Beginning, middle.



Self Talk


Don’t laugh

For you’re breaking roses with that smile

Thorns gonna scar your skin

And no woman

Sweet like blackberries


So permanently

Like you do


Don’t dance

For those notes of grace

Between your soul and the earth


Upon your clay

Yours alone

Ain’t enough

And no woman

So freely expresses


Like you do


Don’t sing

Bird song gonna pierce like an arrow

Through my bearskin


And no woman

Can sew neatly


Like you do


Don’t listen

For you know

Hear to hear

The sway of thought


Like you do

Like a woman.