Last Dance

The record played low and slow,

and his hand dipped into the curve

of her lower back, holding tender

and still.

She leaned her head into his shoulder,

inhaling the scent lifting from

that dip at the base of his neck.

The music swirled around them,

and the rest watched in silence.

He held her hand in his,

tucked in against his chest.

She could feel his heart beating,

in alternate time with the drums.

The record played low, it played slow.

They danced.



Lulu is no more.

The compound is very quiet.

He hasn’t noticed.

The guard and the nanny whisper about her,

motioning silence with a finger on their closed mouth


He kicks the football about,

But does not notice the lack of barks.

Lulu was escorted to beyond some unknown gates

And what we have now is the memory Continue reading


your cuts are delivered so effortlessly,

landing with an outstanding precision,

unexpected but extremely pointed…

aimed right for the jugular,

but slicing past the heart

twisting upwards and forwards.

the cuts are deep,

leaving swathes of pain

in their wake.

you know what you are doing,

you know the path and the destination,

yet you stay married to your cuts,

despite the heart you see shredding

right in front of you,

the jugular sliced wide open,

the blood of disappointment jettisoning

out and upwards,

my trust eroded in its path,

the crimson of it all

overwhelming any affection for you…

and then you say sorry.

again and again.

throwing out words and words carelessly,

hoping the right sorry and the right word

will band aid the path of your cuts.

Might stem the bleed,

but the scars will always linger.

And that…

is the biggest cut of all.



I think this is the end.

This is not how I pictured it.

In fact, I had never pictured it

and, perhaps, this is why

my heart is churning in shock,

agitated by the rip-out process.


Your silence is killing me,

your indifference clear as day,

snuffing out the fire you so expertly lit.


A part of me wishes and hopes

that there are some surviving embers

that can rekindle that flame…

but the part of me that has been dragged

through the mud of heartbreak – my entire heart and soul –

knows, like the final nail on a coffin,

this shit is done.