We sit on the bus,
Your heart says hello to mine,
My mouth says goodbye.
Writing
Lie with me.
You closed your eyes:
I didn’t care
you were pretending I was someone else.
I kept mine open:
and prayed to the ceiling tiles
that you wouldn’t fall in love with me;
I wondered
which of us
was really being fucked.
Coffee.
I used to drink it black
before you came
and stirred your sweetness in.
I never asked for this.
Now everything tastes
bitter.
Write Handed Poetry 