Part 1 "Oh, sorry!" The wayward wheels of a trolley plunged into her ankles, causing her to stumble; shattering the isolation she had enclosed herself within. Pain seared up her shins and her thighs. - An alarm blared. Red lights swung lucidly, signalling a breach on the track. If the delays were not bad enough, … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (2)
The station was rammed with impatient thoughts commuting to and from every nerve ending in my body. Colossal screens blinkered with new information every two minutes or so; the fluorescent orange text stinging my retinas. Several delays had been announced and the transport centre was yet to decide when normal service would be up and … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (1)
This room holds more than I care to admit; more than I can name or speak of again. It still smells of your skin, of childhood innocence and our pink pyjamas. It is warm; electric even and your breath – in my ear burns and sizzles with both fear and ecstasy. I cannot name you … Continue reading Pink pyjamas
I scolded myself today; not in the way my Nanny did whenever she battled my knotted hair, but with water as I slid into the bath, a welcome pain I use to escape the chaos of anxious thoughts with shrill voices talking of nothing but doom. I remember the first time I felt myself seared … Continue reading To scold and scald
With those stars in your eyes you see glamour in my dark heart, you're blinded by the glitter of night, the purple circles - sleepless nights and selfish battles. You call me purgatory, sin wearing labels, bearing crosses from your past life. I am an escape to you, something at which to gawk and … Continue reading Monster
Below the blurb, Bourke’s novel the consolation of maps is compared to Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby and the similarities are soon apparent. Kenji, much like Nick, is swept up into a new world - a world of cartography, history, geography and love. The love of maps, art, Florence and the people we lose. He becomes … Continue reading Review of The Consolation of Maps, Thomas Bourke
I wonder how long it will take the trees to drop their leaves, to embrace autumn and usher in the cold of changing seasons and the memories we assign to those we have lost - bare branches in the boughs. Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019 Between the Trees UK Between the Trees US Available internationally
Dear ______ I cannot use your name nor mine in the same breath any more than I can think of you less than I would like. I do not wish to call you a ghost but that is exactly what you are - you walk through walls, the atriums of my heart and … Continue reading The letter unsent
The colour of my smile isn’t the rosy red the fairytales said it would be. It's smeared clear lipgloss and the salty taste of tears. It's yellow, blue or every shade breathing within a rainbow. It's pulled taut, barely shown or the pearly-white gates on judgement day. It's good enough - rosy red or not. … Continue reading Rosy red
I would like to be held in your hands - cupped in your palms - held above the swelling surface of the sea - kept buoyant by your touch and every promise your skin makes to me in the early hours of the day. In response to day 5: hands, #onceuponaseptember Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019 … Continue reading To be held
