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January 3, 2012

Be patient ladybug
as I am now
while new year’s first born darkness
drags its lovers lips
along the footsteps
we are yet to take

Let’s jump
through every doorway that we find
like our every step
was the last one
that we would ever hear,
and every day the last one
we could sing

Pretend we leave no fingerprints
and breathe no sullied air,
and only need the light
to fill our lungs

Pretend we dance like children
jumping on a bed
oblivious of springs and rules and running time
and maybe
we will burn again,
So be patient, ladybug

The snow fell slowly

March 21, 2011

The snow fell slowly.
lonely flakes drifted downwards
in diagonal memory lanes
of purple,
from a stage
where a band kept their smiles on like light bulbs,
panting washed out hits
over a mellow crowd

The base banged my lungs like a drum, while vodka and red bull
made my legs twitch.
I started dancing in the snow,
like a fool but for real,
as the hi-hat poked my gut like a finger.

She was smirking at me
and I said:
“Sophie, don’t. We are only alive for seconds.”

Between

September 19, 2010

Clearly your windowsill
is a cruel divider it
Steals the moonlight
from your room
Steals the sunlight
from your bed
Steals the sounds of night
from all of us

If only
your windowsill
was a salty Vobla
or a horse’s tack
or a worn pair of Doc Martens
We would see the moonlight
and feel the sunlight
and the sounds we make in the night
would be heard far across
this disgusting suburbia