It's not yet winter and we're already hunting for...
if not cotton, and somehow, as sales seasons sneak...

Sometimes I think I've had enough
of polluting the ocean with my poetry...

I'd bury my face in your shirt
and mumble something...

On morose mornings, I think of myself,
the tea leaves at the bottom of your cup...

"In time, her tale grew old,
her hands grew old...

This poem is fictional -
I did not slice through my heart...

I used to call Australia my tangerine dream:
an island I wanted to peel apart...

Back to back, separate mattresses:
we stare at the ceiling, blind our eyes on skype...

Another evening of spaghetti,
another day of bread...

On sunny days, you feel like a tourist; you
chew on a canary-coloured straw, and stop...

I never imagined my first kiss to resemble
an eagle's beak darting through my lips...

When I was younger, I would despise the ones...
This year has been a year of realisation. Every...