Thinking of You

Pluck my hair
                        as if it were wild weeds
                        overgrown on my scalp.

Carve a slit
between my pecs,
            rip my chest apart
                        and watch my heart
                        drop onto your feet.

Play with it
            like a football,
                        kick it around
                        until it’s bruised
                        & bloodless.

Shove acid
            down my throat,
                        watch my mouth foam
                        & my body convulse.

These are the only ways
I’ll stop thinking of you.

A list of my featured works is found in Publications, including my full-length collection, Welcome to the Sombre Days (2018).

First published by Royal Rose Magazine.

Royal Rose

View original post 70 more words


Photo by Stefano Pollio on Unsplash


Ghost (noun):
a being who has passed away
manifesting themselves to the living
for reasons they will never know.

Ghost (verb):
to write as an anonymous author,
letting others take credit for your words,
including subtle critiques of politics
without putting yourself in danger.

Ghost (verb):
to suddenly disappear from a relationship
without an explanation or reason,
then avoiding human confrontation,
pretending to have mysteriously died.

Ghost (noun, you):
Flashbacks of the two of us,
an image haunting me every day;
your voice echoing in my head,
making me hate myself
for all the mistakes I ever made
(the biggest one was trusting you).

Ghost (verb, you):
to have the pain linger around,
waking me abruptly from a nightmare,
cutting over the unhealed wounds,
dictating how strangely I act around people
because I am afraid of getting hurt again.

Ghost (verb, you):
to disappear or vanish the way you did,
running away with stolen money,
blocking any channel of communication,
erasing the love we had once shared.

Ghost (wishful noun):
I try to think of us, to think of you,
instead, I picture a fragmented soul,
a manifestation of your worst.
It is that ghost who torments me,
riles me up with anger and hatred,
makes me wish you are just a ghost
who is now harmless and dead.


For more poetry, check out Jeremy’s Published Works.

Spoon and Knife

Dinner is set on the table,
a savoury aroma wafting
through the dining room.

She takes out a spoon and a knife,
as she sits down asks
why her hands are holding a spoon
and not a fork.

Goes back to the drawer,
forcibly opening it,
cutlery clinking loudly
as her eyes narrowed down.

Her tongue rants to her husband
about how he misplaces things,
turning her home upside down.

His fists slammed on the table,
plates vibrating
as words fly over them
like air missiles in a world war.

Without pause,
each threw words
as if they were blades,
dodging hits and
launching sharper ones back.

Her face froze pale
as blood stained his white shirt
with a knife pierced through his heart.

Screaming, she ran towards him
held her spouse in bloody arms,
as his eyes closed.

Regret viciously trembles her body,
in the sorrow of the tragedy
she draws the knife out of his chest
and stabs it into hers.

They never meant
for cutlery to come between.


Prompt for 19th January 2018: Blink

My book The A to Z of You and Me is available on AmazonKindle and Barnes & Noble.

Subscribe Now to the Monthly Newsletter!


I remember when you were the formation of skies
showering me with delicate kisses and soft hugs –
the scent of our memories
lingered in the ether
days after the lands had dried.

That tongue
that used to tickle my skin
with all its sensuality,
it now threatens to shred me
with razor-sharp blades.

Those arms
that used to hold me
when I felt alone at night,
they now crush me with all their might.

Those eyes
that used to crown me
in the highest throne of their kingdom,
they now belittle my existence.

We are now hanging
on an edge of a frail cliff,
one reckless motion away
from the death of us.

Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Mild

If you have enjoyed this poem, you should read more About Me. You could also get informed about my poetry book, The A to Z of You and Me which is available on Amazon and Kindle.


Two Halves

“Should I stay or should I go?”
like an ice-skater
slithering in circles
forever in my head.

My hands firmly grip the cold metal poles,
determined to hold on
until the end of time.

Towards each horizon
my legs stretch,
swirling my body around.

One forceful push
and my body tore in two,
half a corpse stayed with you
and the other half sunk into the sea.


Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Torn

If you enjoyed reading this poem, you might want to know more About Me. You should also read my poetry book, The A to Z of You and Me which is available on Amazon and Kindle.