This week, I was lucky enough to visit a new city in a new country; Lisbon. The original plan for my first holiday of the year had been a trip to Amsterdam (finally) but owing to the nature of booking so late and during peak holiday season it was a little out of my price range so Amsterdam is just going to have to wait for me a little longer. However, all was not lost as myself and my friend, Yvie, landed on Lisbon as a place we both wanted to visit so at the end of last month we booked ourselves flights and an Airbnb for a little 5 day holiday. Continue reading Lisbon: A strange but endearing city
I often think about
The nettle stings on your legs
when I pushed you from my lips.
I didn’t want anyone to see us
Locked together, in love.
Even then I was afraid of what bound us
and even now
I’m still thinking about then
and your prickled calves
hands shaking but my mouth laughing
and all of my body was wrecked.
Tense and stretched from my stomach
that pull, the tether that connected us.
But now I don’t feel you
I don’t make a habit of reading the wave of clickbait articles that flood my Facebook everyday from established and lesser known websites alike but I do like to read the comments on things that catch my eye. A habit I think we can all agree isn’t the most sensible course of action unless you want to go from 0 to furious in 0.1 seconds. With the UK general election coming up in 8 days there has been a regular fountain of opinions spurting all over social media (mine included) and trawling the comments section is where most arguments kick-off. However, reading why people think we should/shouldn’t vote for this party or another made me notice a key way in which we try to communicate our point of view to others – comparisons. Continue reading Comparisons: Like a fish with a bicycle.
Until very recently I had been writing in diaries for over half of my life, since I was 11 years old and 2 weeks away from starting high school. I have only stopped writing a proper diary recently because of this blog and because I am expressing myself more through creative writing than a literal documentation of my thoughts and feelings nowadays. In the past I have read select, hilarious sections from my earliest diary to a few friends and looking at the small pile of diaries when I came home just made me want to read and share some of the stupid things I used to write. As there is so much material I’ll be making this into a regular series of posts if people enjoy it! I will be changing people’s names if they pop up and all spelling/grammatical mistakes are from past me, I swear.
So, here it goes.
You can go home again,
to the place that houses your youth.
But don’t forget
the memories you made.
I had planned on doing this blog post when I returned last Sunday, however, I had a pretty rough flight home and hardly any sleep the night before so I was too exhausted (and probably a tad too emotional) to sit down and write about leaving a city that has taken my heart.
So why did I leave?
The ticking hands of time and
Many miles more than before is what lies between us now.
But still, I find myself in this place
That’s so similar to what I once called ours.
So I sit on a bench in the same way I did before
And let my hand creep into the empty space that was yours.
The earth smells different to how I remember it but what I remember most is you.
Your hand chained to mine, like I was your anchor.
I had to stay on the ground while your eyes drifted away to the solitude in your mind.
I always felt like they should shine brighter, your eyes
But they were suffocated under the shadow of your sadness.
I found comfort in the smell of the tree-tinged air
The feel of the earth in my palm waiting for me to create something with it.
It wasn’t me who kept everything down
And I was never meant to be an anchor.