The Trappings of Love

Rusty razor blades sitting in the bin,
hairbrushes and combes laying loose.

Bathroom items lounging about,
something fluffy is stuck to the floor.

Empty plastic bottles and bits sit still,
dirty laundry piles up even higher.

Packets of surfboards hide from sight,
sex toys blush quietly contemplating life.

The drain gurgles about your love life;
the trappings of love have found you both –
as you fleece each other with the tweezers.


Your love of unimportant things,

The way you hold cutlery at 2 am,

Ice cream and passionfruit eyes,

Your expensive underwear taste,

The wiggling that goes on daily,

Kisses after drinking apple juice,

Such love is only a

once in a million love

that I found with you.

Waiting for Answers

Head bowed. Sitting. Waiting. The clock ticks loudly. Time can never be fled from even in death.

The smell of anti-bacterial solution numbs the senses and leaves a sense of sadness in one’s thoughts.

Sitting tensely. Waiting. Flatlining beeps and screams of urgency. Head moves skyward.

Anguish grips the chest. A knowing that this is the end. Numb feelings and recollections of little things about that face.

Waiting for answers. They never come. Time passes. Fatigue sets into her bones. A person arrives. Trepidation increases. Waiting for her world to shatter. Knowing sadness. Overthinking it all.

The person says, “Come with me…”
The silence between them. Phantoms wait for sadness to come so that they can feed and devour the stench of heartache.

One look. He is not there, yet a body on the bed stays still. Sheets of white. Cold flesh. Death has come to her love.

Her world softens as a kind hand touches skin. Even now she feels love. “You will get through this…” She knows she will, but what of her love?