Drastic Surgery

You carefully choose your words
like a surgeon selects a scalpel,
then smiling you begin to slice
easily exposing my defenceless heart.
You lie saying all you desire is
to find the real me, when
your actual motive is
to eviscerate all in me you hate.

You leave what’s left of my essence
congealing, piled in a heap
ready to be burnt.
Then you lay down your scalpel
reach for needle and thread
and sew yourself inside me.


My halo is a cheap chew toy
which I gnaw on like a teething infant,
wanting to bite hard, finding only tender gums.
Calloused fingers rub its now dull edges
old scars like dead ley lines.

I hold the halo up to the sun
trying to rediscover its lost lustre
staring until I go blind.

Do You Remember Our Last Time?

Do you remember our last time?
Afterwards you said loving me had turned into a hate crime,
as I’d changed so little, while you’d grown so much,
I tried to hold you but you recoiled from my touch.
Then when you’d left as I lay there wishing I was dead,
the clever words came to me I wished that I’d said.

I’ll never forget our last time,
as I tried to capture it all in words and rhyme.
Imagining that if I put my memories on the page
we’d be together forever until the end of days.
However because of the way my fractured reflection goes,
which of us was right or wrong no one will ever know.