Magnolia

Magnolia walls, all four and counting, breathe with us now, they know us now, so much so our skin begins to match: a canvas on which you compare me to every fruit the supermarket did not have, every flower you haven’t seen, every sunset discoloured by the evening news. Just magnolia is left, off white … Continue reading Magnolia

Our last

our last bullet held in the chamber of the revolver we hold between us, straddling dining chairs facing one another: you spin the mechanism into place, readying the roulette, one last bullet - is it for you or for me? the stars, the skies and the seas in between.     Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020 … Continue reading Our last

Daisy’s breath

Hold me like a daisy’s breath Sweetly inhale and gently exhale Swallow me, softly Inside the space between your palms and your heart     Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020 Between the Trees UK Between the Trees US Signed copies on Etsy

Like magma

We did not wish each other a happy valentines day because the words are empty mountains lying dormant and deathly still. Whilst our love is volcanic, Vesuvius destructive leaving plaster casts of the lives we led before that kiss in the car park when Eros loosened his arrows and valentines paled into insignificance as we … Continue reading Like magma

A rope hangs

A rope hangs, pulls taut, over the edge of a cliff, love clings to the knots, swinging above an abyss masked by settling cloud. Above there stands a figure, a shadow against the sun, and in their right palm sits a knife, emboldened by the disappearing light, it glints in all that is left and … Continue reading A rope hangs

Brother

I hope you realise you are the salt of my earth. The roots which reach ever deeper. I hope you realise one day how much more you are than you have believed before. You are waxwings in the trees arriving on winter’s doorstep in stoic defiance. You are warmth in the bitter cold. I hope … Continue reading Brother

Age 25

Last year began as the previous one ended - quite literally and in the sense I still had vast mountain ranges to climb. It’s a metaphor we use constantly but I couldn’t think of anything more apt; anything more deceptive than a mountain peak disappearing into the clouds. A few months into the year, I … Continue reading Age 25