Wednesday, 21 November 2018


His lips formed the names of deities,

They danced with sweetened endearments,

As they traced the outline of her face,

As they breathed in the moment of breaking -

The rhythm of togetherness

In hand, breast and dark warmth

Her voice broke the silent coding, the hidden trigger

Pulled as she sighed his name

As she traced the line of his spine

And the curve of his shoulder

And she flooded with feeling,

Forgetting that it was only for that night.

Saturday, 8 September 2018

How to change the world

How to change the world:

Speak clearly and with conviction but
Don't sound too confident, you don't want to sound bossy do you?
Don't call him on being rude or overbearing,
He's showing you he cares, by treating you as less
Stand up straight, shoulders open, take up space, but
Put one foot in front of the other, dip your hip, curve your shoulders so that your collar bones have a shadow, tongue to the top of your palate and smile
Smile but don't smile too much, he'll think you're flirty or ditsy
Wear clothes that make you feel good but
Don't wear anything too bright, short, revealing or provocative
Stand your ground but learn to capitulate, his ego won't take it well
Do your best, but remember boys don't like to be beaten
Be sexually confident but
Don't experiment, buy toys or have too many relationships
Initiate conversation but
Don't talk about yourself too much.
Learn to do it yourself but
He'll feel bad if you do it without asking him for help
Be true to yourself but
Don't let your life goals impact on his
Be the change he wants to see in his world.

Friday, 7 September 2018

Together is

Together is

Together is
Easy words, fleeting loneliness,
Holding hands, candlelight
Slow dancing and learning lyrics
Discomfort, housework,
Using your inside voice and
Putting the toilet seat down

Together is
Crying, hurting and forgiving
Coffee dates, tea in bed,
Cold toast and runny eggs
Tissues, plasters and air freshener
Holding a door, a hand and biting your tongue

Together is
Shared playlists and Netflix passwords
Opening jars, minds and intentional communication
Code words, safe words and fewer excuses
Super king duvets, throw pillows and the shelf you swore would fit all the books

Together is
Making memories, promises and taking action
A kind heart and gentle truths,
Broken hearts, glue guns and No More Gaps
Learning to love that colour,
those shoes and that shirt

Together is
Following a map,
Getting lost, lighting matches
Toasting marshmallows and burnt egos
Risk, monopoly, poker faces
Losing badly and winning well

Together is
An effort, a complication,
A reminder, a password
An ambition
A safe haven, a home
A love
And three words
You and me.

In the dark.

In the dark.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
In my chaotic heart
To be held, phone lighting the sand,

When your arms found me
As I began to fall apart.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To be there again
On that beach,
And how it felt like home.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To feel you breathe under my cheek
As I watched the waves,
And to feel your hand tracing circles
As you held me in that moment.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To want to step back,
Because you are my safety net;
And I owe you more than you'll ever ask for.
And because I am too scared to lose you.
But maybe, just maybe, you do need me as much as I need you.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To stare at the stars, holding back tears,
Feeling the warmth of you
As you stood near enough to hear my doubt.

And I'd tell you the truth, about how it feels when you smile
And I am reminded that I love you.
And there is no explanation to make that truth more true -

Than your strength,
Whispered on a beach,
With silver waves and the light of a phone -
Because you know that I can't see in the dark.

©LattejunkieNZ 2018


It confuses me still

And it confuses me still,
That practiced pause in your argument.
The sudden switch to voiced concern
To check that I am focused and ok -

Ok to let you continue telling me when, and where,
We were standing the first time you doubted.
How you felt the first time you loved another -

And another -

And another -

And came home to tell me why you had to feel and do.
I was not doing more
To make you feel like you were part of a whole.

And how I should breathe deeper to smell the scent of their skin
And the Dutch courage it took to allow yourself that release.

About how I should feel guilt
and blame only myself,
Because I made you do this.

Because I get caught in a word or a phrase
And I think I'm doing better at holding us together.
Until you pause to make sure





How I should take the blame today.

© LattejunkieNZ 2018

Sunday, 1 July 2018


Her voice carries over the sound of wheels on wet tar,
Over the shift of a bag, a guitar slung over a shoulder,
Knee hitting the body of the other bag, rhythmically
Part knell, part heartbeat,
Driving him to the hill,
To the two lakes,
To her last wish.
To set her loose,
to allow himself to become one.
No longer tied to him, no longer tied to anything,
More than that, to let her be apart from him,
but a part of all.
For him to be one for the first time.

Origami Hearts

Origami Heart

You tore a page from our book
With paint stained fingers
And folded an origami heart

You tore a page from our book
With ink stained fingers
And folded an origami heart

You tore a page from our book
With grass stained fingers
And folded an origami heart

You tore a page from our book
With cigarette stained fingers
And folded an origami heart

You tore a page from our book
With oil stained fingers
And folded an origami heart

You tore a page from our book
With tear stained fingers
And folded an origami heart

You tore a page from our book
With a stranger's fingers
And folded an origami box

And now we no longer have a book, but -

A box full of hearts
Made from our story
Which tear as I open them
Trying to find the page
Or sentence that shows
Where it all changed,
Where the plot twisted
Where the story ended

You tore a page from our book
And made a box of hearts
But all I have left
Is paper cuts
And confetti hearts.

Monday, 26 February 2018

Ask Me

Ask me

Ask me a question,

Actually, wait

Ask me a good question,

One that will prompt a story to flow from my heart

But, maybe not one that will make me remember the last time I was asked it,

Because I'm not going to tell you that story today.

Go on, ask me a question,

One that will open your eyes wide as I become something you've never guessed at

But maybe not that one?

Because then I'd have to couch it in explanations that would mar the velvet and rend the gossamer memory,


Ask me about how it felt to hear his last kind word,

Ask me about how it felt to feel my first broken heart, not the last,

Ask me about how his tears tasted the night he first kissed me after she died,

Ask me about how the café smelt of coffee and cake as he fucked me on the steel countertop,

Ask me how it'll sound when your voice breaks as you finally understand the ending of the poem you've always suspected was about you,

Ask me how it will be when I finally find the answer to your question,

Ask me if I'll tell you.

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

Tomorrow's Thoughts.

As the sun set and the clouds became the night black

The glamour failed and they saw the other side,

A bay of red and crimson, banked by peaks and shadowed cliffs,

A place that existed for them to marvel at,

A glimpse into a world where it had never happened,

Where it was all still, as it used to be, as it should have been,

Stretched out beyond their grasp, lingering to remind them that within the intake of breath and the receding whisper of the waves -

Was the rhythm of tomorrow's thoughts and the beating of a heart only bruised.

Saturday, 10 February 2018


If we're born with our map to the end of our race in hand

And our minutes are already counted

And everyone we'll ever meet is already going to meet us

And everyone we'll love, loves us already even though they don't know us yet,

And those who will in turn hate us, already carry it safely in their heart like a lump of coal not destined to become a diamond

And every tear, smile, laugh and hug is accounted for

And every fake orgasm is stored next to the real ones in wrapping that is seemingly exactly the same

And every meal is planned, trip booked, book lined up on a shelf,

Why do we try so hard to make each moment count twice?