Creative Writing Love

Kindness Tied My Shoelaces

I remember when I was just 8.

Kindness tied my shoelaces.

And then you got cancer when I was 38.

Today the dancing stopped, because you died.

Tomorrow, I will see you for the last time, as I lay you down.

I can always find you in the books you read and the dishes you made.

But, if only I could wake up and just miss you less.

Creative Writing Love

True Love For Rent

The red purse and the red dress plus the black heels. That’s what excited him. The mascara on her eyelids was almost a wink in secret. But this was his view.

For her, what she saw was the handsome Italian and the blue eyes. The champagne glasses and the red rose between them completed the ambience. She tasted the caviar and felt a frisson of warmth.

She was in love. The bed of roses and the Chanel No. 5 mingled to create a heady whiff of sex. He thought of it as a quick fuck. She preferred to call it love making.

It was when she slipped on her red dress over her clammy body and took the cash he threw her way did the 60 minute dream end.

We don’t talk about these things, she told her daughter. I’m just for rent. But I rent myself, spread my legs, and earn for your sake, my love.

Find true love and cherish it. Just make sure that you don’t end up like me.

Creative Writing Love


I couldn’t stand the beating of my heart when I saw you.

So I swiped.

You swiped too.

But not just on me.

I think that you’re good at making others care for you.

I imagined that when you cry, that your eyes would sparkle just like my smile in a starry sky.

Over the period of two birthdays I decided to love you.

Loving you was a choice where I borrowed suffering in advance.

And, you – a lie – turned up at my doorstep.

Now, I’m sipping low-key sadness in the dark.

Creative Writing Love


You want to talk about addiction?

Pull up a chair and sit next to me.

I’ve just managed all these years to keep the crude corners of my heart together with Pimm’s, Tanqueray and Fernet Branca.

You ask me why I’m chasing the dragon, again.

I’ll tell you why.

I take it because you don’t like me without it.

I ended up finding the drug I like. I ended up finding the drug you like me on.

And so now I’ve overdosed.

Don’t waste my suffering.

The memories I have wrapped up in my head are better than any experience.

You miss me I know.

This is why I’m reaching across to say I am still here.

You have too much hope.

Hope is a lie.

It is a reliance on people.

And we know how that goes.

But you can’t save me.

You tried, and this is the thanks you get.

I stay in the in-between — an area between sanity and insanity.

A 24/7 agony.

Why feed your dreams of you wanting me alive when I can feed mine of dying?

I choose not to care.

You should too.

Creative Writing Love


There’s nothing quite like painting a pearl necklace around you at the climax of our lovemaking.

Since you’re such a prude, I’ll call it a rosary.

I’ll take a pen to your skin.

I never expected to write on a canvas this veinous and muscular.

Blue looks good on you.

So does your nudity.

I prefer blue ink on you than green.

Green won’t do since we both have lost our innocence.

Whispering a last hurrah between your hard thighs was what excited me.

Both pen and tongue travel down your goody trail to hidden promises below.

The murmurs and giggles my tongue evicts from your mouth leaves us both wet.

Our love story’s denouement turned out to be a festival of just lust and sadness.

I loved you a little too much.

And expected you to feel the same way.

It used to be: He is everything.

It is now: He was everything.

Creative Writing Love

A Secret In The Closet

I wish I could tell you a story of a happier time, but that time has taken on the sheen of vagueness.

The problem with being on this earth is that all that we do is a delusion. And all the delusions die when the money runs out. So does the privilege. I wish I wanted what I had instead of wanting what I didn’t have.

I’ve seen too many tears spilled in funerals by loved ones. It was never because of the loss but the sadness and regret of not treating the newly departed with the love and kindness that they deserved when they were alive.

I knew that prayers come true as do wishes. But only sometimes. I now understand why angels fear to tread on earth. It’s because they make the mistake of falling in love, and losing everything.

I say the names of those who died so I won’t forget. I won’t forget that this is my destiny too. Some people reside in the hurts between 3am and 6am. The Lord knows this. And, he listens. Not anymore.

I am now forever stuck. Afraid to face my fears. 30 years ago, I had five minutes to shape the rest of my life. And, I did. Now I live in regret.

He opened the closet and ruffled through coats and shirts, and he heard the tingling of silver feathers that had gathered earthly dust. He shook his wings and caressed them longingly. Like most things in life, the opportunity to leave had passed.

Creative Writing Love

A Long Good Bye

I wish there was a period at the end of our sentence.

It would mean closure.

But you placed a comma mid sentence which means this story continues.

A semi-colon when you talk is a pause too long.

A colon starts a run of complaints, excuses, broken promises and threats.

Our tale simmers towards the end with a question mark.

I guess uncertainty is what our future holds.

Grieving for a person while they are alive.

Time will erase you first, and then I.

This is the way it is.

This is the way it should never have been.

Creative Writing Love


Dignity never lived here.

Dignity never got a chance.

He weaponized a question.

He was polite enough to ask: Shall I kill your hopes and dreams?

What was I to do except smile and say – As you wish.

Creative Writing Love

This Thing Called Delusion

Loneliness made me crave you.

And this inconvenience called a relationship.

Now I laugh.

At myself.

For my stupidity.

For my greeness.

To realize that I’ve been kissing a delusion all this time.

And to think that your kisses were like a postcard from Spain.

Your stink like an Hallmark envelope unfurling.

A message for me to taste.

I laugh at myself.

To think I could get a Happy Ending with a person like you.