To the odd tea spoon in the jar, I hope you felt welcomed when you passed over my threshold; I know the bottom of the stairs is quite cold but you’re metal so I assumed you wouldn’t care. I know you’re bigger than the rest, ill-fitting in this new home, no longer the … Continue reading My Mother’s Teaspoon
Run a bath with lavender oil and find yourself a good book. Read out loud and learn how to use your breath as you struggle with the heat and the words; it will become easier as you ease into the porcelain and stretch your legs over the edge as nobody is watching. Sink a little … Continue reading How to love
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
She wanted to be wanted; to be written about in a 'the world cannot end until I've kissed you' way. Not used like china, porcelain or clay; something to be shattered and shaped, slipped into the fire to bake. © Kristiana Reed 2018 Image credit.
The horizon was every shade of blue and the field greens were blinding. The sky was grey but I was warm in dusty sunshine yellow. My stomach swooped and soared like the blackbird disappearing to my left. My head was foggy like the treetops between Winter and Spring. My heart was somewhere, out there. By … Continue reading Home and Away
Rain burst through the clouds, ringing off roofs; the sudden delight and despair of a late night downpour. The clatter of water drowned my silence and almost, my sadness. My sadness, which by osmosis, had left my body into the sky, grew arms and melted, on return it cuddled me close, stroked my damp, … Continue reading Glistening concrete
She visited me tonight, pressed her hand against my heart, caught my breath in her palm and asked me if I felt, her anger, her apathy and dismay. She visited me tonight, pulled apart each knuckle and asked me how, many times I'd held your hand, then threatened to pin loss in my sides, … Continue reading She
I've learned to love the sound of trains at night. My heart used to quicken, as steel glided upon steel; accelerating with the wind buffeting plastic scratched glass of reflected faces in mustard light. The hum, has become my melody, accompanying scolding hot baths, twirling in a desk chair and walking between rooms, … Continue reading Trains at night
The pitter patter of rain interferes with tyres, the roll of rubber I'm listening for, and as it swirls down the drain the only thing I can think of is calling out your name. © Kristiana Reed 2018 Image credit.
I want to listen to bird song and reminisce about love, about your touch. Hands which are presents to open, unwrapping each knuckle, finger and thumb. A tongue which unfolds like Christmas ribbon in my mouth, brushes my lips, a kiss. © Kristiana Reed 2018 Image credit.
