We didn’t just break;
We shattered.

Smashed irreparably into fragments.

I cannot conceive that time will grind
The shards of us to sand.

Counting the days since you

Day one without you:
I burrow in schematics of electrical things. In trying to understand them, I hope I can forget you. I fail in both regards. I choke myself with ruggedized cables. I fail a third time.

Day two without you:
I surround myself with people who are not you. I remember that there are people who are not you. I eat a buffet lunch. I sob into a shakey sleep, fingers grasping the palm of my phone.

Day three without you:
The people still are not you. They are offensively not you. I salt my Caesar salad with tears at the table. I learn that grief is unappetising. I acknowledge that this is grief. I push my plate away. I hope I lose too much weight.

Day four without you:
I drive. I drive as far as I can. I have to stop to pee. I whisper promises to trinkets in shops. I abandon them before committing to the checkout. I delete your number. I switch off my phone.

Day five without you:
I try not to write about you. Nothing rhymes. I turn my phone back on. I reply to my mum’s messages. I wait for a text from an unknown number.


Other girls

He told me I was different
To all those other girls.
I was smarter, funnier,
Prettier and witter
Unlike all those other girls.

Unlike all those other girls,
I was stronger, less hysterical,
More logical, more rational.
I had a male brain.
Unlike all those other girls.

And, like those other girls,
It broke my heart to think
That he’d had all those other girls.
That he had such a low opinion
Of those other girls;
Those nameless girls
With no defining features.
Unremarkable girls.
Other girls.

And I realised that, after a life
Spent wishing to be more like other girls,
I’d rather be another girl
With his long line of other girls.


No more for you

How many more poems are in you?
I don’t want to keep writing about you.
Thinking about you.
Living and reliving you.
I don’t remember good with you.
I don’t want that nearness to you;
That association.
How much pain is in me still?
It is mine, not yours.
I reclaim my pain.
I reclaim my words.



I didn’t know I’d lose you so I didn’t say goodbye.
And, even now, I’m looking back and I’m still wondering why.
I wanted to be close to you and give you all of me.
I guess that all was all too much– it wasn’t meant to be.

I still recall the first time that I looked into your eyes
And searched in them for softness, but it wasn’t there to find.
I used to make you smile… Then I only made you frown.
I always tried to lift you up, you said I brought you down.

I tried so hard to love you and that’s where the problem lay;
I made a choice to drown with you and let love float away.