Pops like stars


in my delectable

Vanilla sponge.


~ found poetry from pages of ‘My Manchester, Student Guide’





peddicordwedding-012I am tired of seeing relationships around me fail, break and fall apart, turn so tough that in the end there is no love left. I don’t want to fall in love just so that all of it can be slowly drawn out of me.

You see, it is something like this. Imagine you were a stamp collector. And you go to these stormy deserts and frozen mountains, you visit kingdoms from lost time. You speak to these old men in post-offices, men with warts and eyebrows as thick as grasslands. You do all of this only so that you can add to your prized collection each day. And one day, your box of stamps is beautifully full, it is so whole that you couldn’t possibly add another feather to it. Would you ever turn this box upside down?

What if I tell you you had to. Or someone else would.

I don’t want to go on collecting stamps all my life only so that someone can pick them up and send them on loveless postcards to mailboxes where they will never be read, never be discovered. I don’t want to love until I am empty.

A Reminder

To the white wine of joy, winters, and New Year cheer

I am writing this so that when I read it later in life, I can recall what a wonderfully happy year this was.

I know the coming year will bring its own challenges and pains. There will be three sad days for every good one. But I hope that by this time next year, I have the courage to call 2017 just as beautiful.

Goodbye 2016,

Thank you for all the memories.

The History of You

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She wore tens of layers in winters. None of them bigger than the ones they superseded. Each the same size, crafted for her round, pink body. They fit over each other like missing pieces of  jigsaw. They made so much sense together.

The white collar peeking from below the red sweater that slept within the sea-coloured coat and the  cream scarf of snow. Each bit a clue to a treasure map I had spent my entire life searching.