When he tells you he doesn’t like the way you look when you wear red lipstick,

I hope the next words your lips form are “fuck you.”

When I wear red lipstick I feel like I could bring down an army of men with the wave of one hand.

And who is he to take that away from you?

When he tells you he preferred you when your body was “tighter”,

I hope the next gesture from your hands is a middle finger.

When I look in the mirror, I see the wide hips of Aphrodite.

Who is he to tell you what your body should look like?

If he disguises it for honesty,

And you still feel pressure to look a certain way,

Just walk away.

I’ve learned that nobody knows you better than you,

Nobody knows whats better for you than you do.

Wear red lipstick if you want to,

Cut your hair if you want to.

Don’t let anyone stop you from being you.


Pillow Talk.

I used to have this fear that I would hear you utter someone elses name in your sleep.
The possibility that you might love another; the graveyards of old girlfriends haunting your dreams.

You always wake me in the night with your ramblings.

Last night I awoke to you stroking my cheek. You said “I love you, Sam,”
I said “I love you too, baby,”
Then you rolled over and went back to sleep.

That’s how I know it’s real.

An automatic phrase at the tip of your tongue,
Nothing to hide or conceal.
No thought behind it, no rehearsed words,
Something that escapes you even in sleep.

You may be asleep, but your love is always awake.
I’ve come to realise that love is a state of being,
Your words reminded me.

They are the best words to wake up to,
Even if you have no recollection of it,
I will dream of those words for the rest of my life.

Beauty and The Beast

I have had boys who devoured me,

ravaged me – wouldn’t even look at me.

I expected you to be the worst,

the most animal among them,

with your ice cold hands

and your ice cold heart.

What used to make me cry

was the memory that you might not be a monster after all,

when I remembered the feeling of your lips pressed softly to my collar bone.

And the gentle strokes of your fingertips on my hips,

How our hands would collide in the middle of the night,

I would fantasise;

You were just the beast in a fairytale

waiting to open your ice cold heart to my warm hands.

I would watch the icicles thaw,

watch you shed your thorns.

Slowly, you would fall in love with me

and give me the happy ending that I was searching for.