You’re the one I neglect the most. In a bad week, it could be daily. That, or I never leave you; I stay wrapped up in you listening to my heart in pillow echoes. When I do decide to leave, there isn’t a second I don’t feel guilty; ashamed I couldn’t even find a … Continue reading Inside out
I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. Remembering the day you were given to us is the least I can do. The least, after all you’ve done over the years; perfectly toasted toast for supper, lego bricks and piano lessons, riverdance and rhubarb dipped in sugar. © Kristiana Reed 2019 https://soundcloud.com/user-798168065-197387209/rhubarb
We sung hymns in assembly but we weren’t a Christian school. There was a church down the road but it was too modern, too sterile and even though I knew the girl whose father lead the services there, we never talked about faith or the afterlife; unless it was a lesson on Hinduism and we … Continue reading Churchgoing
There is glitter in my bath water. A nebula of healing, medicine and feeling. It greets me like a childhood home, invites me to breathe along with the swirls and the ripples I make because my heart is still beating and I can wiggle my fingers and toes. It settles into the lines in my … Continue reading Painted gold
My mother’s arms arc gently, paintbrush in hand. She is decorating my bedroom walls with flowers; pink petals, purple shadows and sunshine yellow centres. I watch, sat cross legged in the middle. Cross legged on a beige carpet, surrounded by the magnolia walls my mother is gracing with her colours, her charm, her beauty … Continue reading Ambrosia
Today she was reminded of all her faults; the ones she keeps in boxes, rather than the false ones she champions, for social acceptance. Most days, only she knows where they are kept but she forgets she did not walk from her mother’s womb into adulthood. She stumbled and crawled with a bloody nose, and … Continue reading Hung like bunting
To my right is a man I fell in love with so rapidly my blood still simmers and hisses in delight at being touched and being made to feel wonderful again. To my left is a cat sprawled belly up and purring, sleeping soundly nestled into my ribs and tummy whilst the man curls … Continue reading The centre of the universe
I have an interview in this skyscraper of glass with grey elevators pulled on metal strings. This one in particular smells of somebody’s lunch and my grandmother’s musk. If she were here she would double check I had brushed my hair and ironed my blouse. A peeling sign recommends a capacity of eight in a … Continue reading Elevator People
I have never paid enough attention to doors and the way they look: pulled open, ajar, or closed. Or how they bear memories, of blows and the passionate kisses pressed up against their spines. The worn lock screaming secrecy and the scuff marks chuckling mischief. Light seeps through them, four clean lines, a … Continue reading The white light
I want to write you a love song. Deafen you with music and blind you to who I really am; a girl taught to please in the gargoyle face of disappointment; a girl eager to achieve anything you ask, spoken or unspoken; a girl who wishes she could find her ship instead of cling onto … Continue reading Real love, good love
