You've already left.

537 miles North of me, of us.

I'll ruffle up to join you in four (agonising) weeks 

but to my unconcerned shame, 

I'm too sad to sleep in that bed without you, too ungoverned.

Nostalgia, even the warm kind, is too much feeling for me.

Something about it has always made my lipids curdle 

and an unpleasant tickle cloud in my brain.

The street ou...

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Giggles and winks at romantic excess 

The mountains seem like overkill yes

I’d said with a grin that shone my delight 

And fastened my thighs steel clam-snap tight, 

The still of his stare, blue-blazing and prised 

By billows of sun emulsified 

In bright, surf-swept skies and slick seas of cloud,

Long salted kisses, wet noses bowed, 

Collateral pass...

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