ajulea

Illustration of a bird flying.
  • Autumn stayed till Winter

    The red tiled roof shivered while we watched the wild autumn wind paint a thousand silver stars on a fresh charcoal black sky. A few blazing beats later I caught a falling star, but it was just your hand in mine- a soft, warm, pocket-sized…

    April 13, 2021
  • Who am I?

    When I enter the room the first thing I notice is how many cracks the tiles have, how heavy the curtains are and how neighbours won’t tattle- broken glass creates art and jealous screams leave neon trails. I gauge the weight of the grey c…

    April 4, 2021
  • Too many, and not enough

    I could have missed you like the sun misses the silent silver moon, painting a sky wide canvas with the purples and reds of longing, but bold brush strokes aren’t my style. I miss you in camera shy street corners and dark empty rooms in af…

    March 28, 2021
  • Untitled

    words broke me and built me up like fire which burns and welds it destroyed the paper boat but built a ship instead I’ll miss the puddles and the streams but watch me sail the seven seas…

    March 4, 2021
  • Spaces

    We sat on the raised sidewalk kicking pebbles, raising dust and watching the sun go down between green and red awnings over bakeries and boutiques. A weary tram lumbered past, painted a forget-me grey and the ground shook in its wake. Thic…

    February 26, 2021
  • I touched the sky

    I touched the sky yesterday. And while I was reaching up, an unsure shred of it fell, through slanted rays, on parched lips. It tasted like honeydew, salted caramel popcorn and freshly squeezed orange juice. The texture was wispy, like…

    January 17, 2021
  • Smoke rings and fine lines

    Red, yellow and amber streaks and blurred neons of car lights coloured the streets post sundown, while dark shadows played hopscotch. Moths, like dusky dames with the fatal flaw of being born with wings, danced the streetlight death. Car ho…

    December 24, 2020
  • Jenga

    Wait below the windy willow that ripples the river with dreams which, like skipping stones sink below with flailing arms and silent screams. I’m on my way down phantom lanes leaving mud tracks of sunset rust. Every roaring turn looks the sa…

    December 20, 2020
  • Let you down slowly

    The fireworks were spring and autumn merging and dancing with shooting stars on a pale, shivering night. Jet black waters ran, trying to carry the reflection with them on their journey to the south sea. I lost you in the air that night a…

    November 22, 2020
  • Rain on the river

    We danced like                            r                           a                           i                    …

    October 23, 2020
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