When you see someone crying,
You should help.

You saw her cry,
You didn’t help.

But I was bowling my eyes out,
And she was barely sniffling.

Nothing
Unless
Monday to Monday something
Bothers you.

When I can’t write
And still I wish to.
Thinking all night
Hoping to see you.

Writer’s block isn’t for me.
But poked eyes, tonight I see.
Paper and pen, Keyboard and screen.
Either way, words fly from me.

me and my mum
drive alone at night
to go buy nail polish
at the chemist.

she talks and sings
at our red cars
20 year old
built in radio.

i look into my visor mirror
at my eyebags
and listen to her voice
as it fills our silence;
with little input.

as they come and go
the streetlights outside
our misty windows
blur together
into vivid neon icing.

i ask her
as we drive
if we have
crinkle cut salt and vinegar chips
in the pantry at home.

she says she we do;
but she bought thins instead,
‘cause they were
the ones on sale.