When did you know you found closure?
Was it when the need for an apology went away?
Does the need for an apology ever go away?
Did you forgive or did you forget?
Did you do both or did you do neither?
What did you do to the infinite grief?
Was it like a candle flame — growing smaller
And smaller, until it was no longer there?
Or was it like a crack on a marble floor 
In a newly bought house — You made peace with the fact
That you’re going to have to live with it?

I walked past my old hostel gates today
They’re painting an advertisement over the seats you sat on on
Could this be the beginning of your end?

Doc Pomus [poem]

I remember the first time I had seen him dance
He was alone on that dais but he wasn’t dancing alone
With him, danced all 176 pairs of eyes present in that room
God, he looked gorgeous

-20th January, 2019-
God, he looks gorgeous
And the music is so loud, I feel it in my chest

Should I try and maybe dance?
I’ll start by standing up
Oh, wait, he’s dancing with her
I hate dancing anyway

The noise is so loud, I feel it in my throat
He looks happy
Woah, am I.. am I cheering them on?
Of course I am
I’m the chill girlfriend who cheers like a chihuahua
She, however, is clumsy
And her moves are so repetitive

At least she’s doing something
All I’m doing is pretending I’ve got a phone call
And thinking about Doc Pomus’ wedding

-3rd October, 2020-
I am talking to her over a phone call
I don’t want to be nice to her
I’m overcompensating by being unnaturally nice to her

I hate dancing.


She rests over polished wood, matte black and inanimate. I drag my pen across one side of her pages and when I do so, no word or letter escapes to the other side. Helped by the weight of the front cover and a band fastening the pages together, my notebook stays shut, sabotaging the wind’s attempt to read my secrets.

This notebook is conscious and integrous
More than the people I know.