Poem: Midnight

iTunes is giving away presents for the 12 Days of Christmas. I am sharing poems from back in the day, up until now. Not as good, but something I’ve been meaning to do for a while – if not just so that I can see whether or not I have ‘progressed’.

Turns out it’s hard to find a favourite from poems you wrote when you were 16…


It’s too hot to sleep.

Shift, stick, burn, twist.
I lie awake. The sheets are tight.
In the gaps between talking to
You I drift.
So tired I can barely remember
if I can spell my own name.

Let alone what I said to you.



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