to be unnamed

This poem is inspired by Call Me By Your Name & was written with Visions of Gideon playing in the background.

If Heaven is built on white lies,
then let me believe for the last time
that your breath can run into mine,
giddy with love, you and me, likewise.

But why is it that every time our lips
collide, I can’t taste anything beyond
the quiet? Tell me, when will the thought
of you stop clouding these closed eyes?
Don’t forget the rain and wistful smiles.

Hey love, am I still allowed to call you
so? I suppose names were never our own,
gifted to us so our entirety can
be condensed into palpable syllables,
rolled over the tongue, bitten into and
chewed on until the flavour fades
or tastes suddenly change.

(Why did you change, or did I?)

I guess I thought I would be okay but time
reminded me of its unpredictable path
from now until tomorrow, here I am again.
Silence stretching out as long as a
sleepless night, and I am unlearning desire,
like feeling itself is a bad habit, brea
king words until they lose all meaning,
writing about you until I forget the way
I used to whisper – your name.

Continue reading “to be unnamed”

20 January

Image courtesy of: Hideyoshi

I could hear in his voice
the conviction of youth
and I wonder if mine
was wasted on a fool
who has chewed down flesh
and bone to leave a terrined-heart
dished out, cold.

Do boys like to wear suits and
swirl wine, slice through
boundaries like butter
because they think that anything
in the world can be bought by paper,
and if not, they’ll burn
it down instead?

They wear metal on wrist
and hold metal in hand,
thinking they were born
as natural protagonists, except
sometimes forests are not yours
to cut down or even explore,
who gave you permission
to scale these walls?
she was never yours to save.

Now, I’m not saying women
are any better at sorting through
this tangled ball of fate and quick
mistakes, but I have always envied
the rain for how it melts into waterfalls
and I could always trust the ocean
to cleanse any small cut or graze.

she feels safe,
maybe soon the hesitation
will fade.

Continue reading “20 January”


Photography: mxqqy (self)


dandelion seeds,
crack in the sidewalk they meet,


beach towels on car seats,
washing sand off salt-licked feet,
oh, his sun-kissed cheeks.


the wind takes the leaf,
away from her favourite tree,
his roots run too deep.


earthworms are asleep,
warm hearts shiver separately,
sad eyes and cold screens.

waste-landed heart

Moving Image Courtesy of: wiffles

once upon a time
she hardly remembers,
the girl with tumble weed hair
and rose petal lips
was not afraid of heartbreak.

she kept her head held high
so she could learn
from birds in the sky
how to gently unfurl
the delicate wings encasing
a heart three-sizes too big
for her hope-filled chest
watch her as she breathes in
the meadow-scented winds.

Continue reading “waste-landed heart”

long distance – 4614

Image courtesy of: Arsenixc

we are missing
and I no longer remember
where I misplaced us
perhaps our hearts
sunk to the bottom of the
Tasman sea when I moved
away from home?

I thought if I packed my bags
full of photos and love notes
I could make a scrapbook of
our story but I guess
scraps are just the meaningless
edges of what I clung onto
too tightly and torn too carelessly
and these tears cannot be mended
just wiped away.

Continue reading “long distance – 4614”

491 Days at Sea

© Paolo Domeniconi

we are all
flesh and no soul
built weak
dreaming of going to sea
so the waves
may wash away the minutiae
not so we can ‘find ourselves’
but to just be ourselves
won’t you join me,
before the beckoning of the earth
takes hold?

you see,
the ocean is no place to venture alone
I’ll need you to be there
to steer, paddle or shout –
“Land Ahoy!”
as you run about
distracting us from the starless nights
when we can’t help but wonder
if the moon pulls the tides of fate
or if we’ll have to find our own way
in this cold and empty place

even those at sea
fear inevitability
that, my love,
includes you and me
one day
the monsters will drag us
to the murky depths of abyss
but right now
our fragile bones
are overcome by the silent song
of the salt-stained breeze
they move
because they know the music of life
and you
are enough of an excuse
for another night
on this rickety boat
even though we’re scared?
we’re here

it was 491 days later
before something shifted in the atmosphere
rolling eyes and loud sighs
displaced indestructible sea floors
sharp tongues like whips
cut masts of pride
torrents of heavy words sunk ships
and a tsunami of sky-high idealisations
couldn’t hide the realisation that
it hurts to love with a washed up heart
darling, it was your voice,
not the endless, breathless siren’s song
that reminded me
both the ocean and tears
were not as beautiful
as I imagined

I suppose adventures
don’t make for smooth sailing
but look, the sun is rising
and if you still dare to
brave the scorching days
and relentless rain
won’t you please
kiss my bruises away
and hold me when phantom pain
haunts the moon-lit night?
the waves are calling,
let’s not keep the ocean waiting.