Advice For The Next One.


I know you didn’t ask but here’s some advice for the next one:   He. His lips tastes like his favourite g&t, sometimes of cigarettes and – depending on how hard you kiss him – of blood. Trace the callouses of his knuckles and if you pay close attention, you will realise that his signature

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  My love, I am writing to tell you that I am giving up. It’s not that I have stopped loving you. No, that can’t be further from the truth. And it’s not that I have found another – how could I when I still search for you in the eyes of strangers?   It’s

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Between the Lines.

A photo by Kristopher Allison. unsplash.com/photos/6x90rJDo-WA

  I can hear his breathing through the phone – a steady in, out, hesitate.  “It’s late, I should go to bed. Is there anything else?”   I want to know why you keep running back to him. To someone who looks at the time spent with you as a meaningless transaction with a clear-cut

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