Time Machine

For Heidi

I watch you play adult in high-rise apartments-
Paying bills, folding laundry, loading the dishwasher,
In Louboutin heels and tailored blazers,
Drinking morning coffees in kitchens with marble backdrops.

But your heart still pauses at girlish intricacies-
Dream catchers from the market, wooden musical boxes, Parisian pink accents.
The entire Harry Potter series is alongside bank statements,
And there is a teddy bear in the corner.

We are a sea away from our parents, from home.
I flew to your place from mine, but there is something unfamiliar
About the way the air is void of our childhood;
There are no long-forgotten memories that jump from these surroundings,
Nothing that makes us say,
“Remember that time when…?”

But we do the same things anyway;
Drive to the cinemas for a Disney remake,
Succumb to nostalgia, and spend the night watching originals,
(Even though we both know better than happily ever afters now).

You have work early the next morning, and I have a flight to catch,
So we stay up later than we should,
Listening to each other’s stories like a good novel we just can’t put down,
Words tumbling from our mouths the way we used to roll down grassy hills;
This is a type of effervescence no technology can ever convey.

I tell you about a laughter I save for moments like these,
For when happiness is this pure, this distilled, this sacred.
I want to run to the scientists and announce that somehow we’ve done it – we’ve travelled back in time,
For how else do you explain the way we can sit here as adults
But, in every other way, be so completely and wonderfully,


Return to Sender

I still think about you.
I don’t want to, but the idle mind is not blessed with the luxury of choice.
I wonder if you’ll ever read this and see your name written all over it
(You would not be wrong).

Did you realise I bruised easily? You were so careful with your words;
“I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it,” you said in the end,
As if I would be angry, annoyed, or even disappointed.
No darling, the word should have been ‘upset’;
Shattered, maybe-
Devastated, heartbroken-
“I knew you would be crushed.”
You needn’t have worried about words hurting me, I’ve seen them all.
So I reassured you that it was fine, that I’d walk away;
After all, my legs are strong from our tip-toe kisses.

When I came to you after drunken mistakes, you asked me
Why I became so casual about the kinds of lips and bodies that pressed against me on Friday nights
When I once blushed from your caresses.
I tell you
It’s easier in this maze of bodies.
I knew about this, that’s why I left my soul at home for safekeeping.
It’s difficult to remember what it means to have a name, a personality,
To believe in this darkness that I am anything more than flesh and bones.
And in those moments, I can almost pretend that the strange body coiled around me
Belongs to you.

I finally understand now that this is our fate, the inevitable,
Even though the idealist within me, the one who still wants to believe in happily ever afters, wishes otherwise.
But there is no point in trying to prolong
A story that has come to an end, with sequels of foolish fantasies and delusional daydreams-
That was not the author’s intention.
No one keeps writing with a pen that has run out of ink-
I should know that best.

Maybe we both deserve better,
So I hope you find someone who makes you happier,
And I hope she makes you laugh, in a way
I don’t think I was ever able to.

Clair de Lune (plus thank you for 1k!)


For everyone who has achieved their goals but is still unable to forget their dreams

Young girl,
Palms blossom towards the sun,
Tries to catch daylight in her hands.
Whispers to the sky-
I just want to save some for the night;
I want to be like the moon.

Grown girl,
Shoots for the moon, but loses her way connecting the dots of constellations.
Writes her name into the night instead,
And seeks refuge among the stars,
Learning to become the brightest of them all.

People see her today and ask why she still refuses to sleep,
Why she still reaches for the moon
Even after she has become the sun, because
They don’t know that in her dreams she’s still chasing crescents.
Her heart has long since been eclipsed,
And it still swells like the tidal waves,
Unyielding, locked, forever devoted to the solar system’s crystal ball.

She doesn’t tell others
There is a difference between the comfort of satisfaction,
And the surge of distilled, incandescent bliss.
She wants to walk the moon today,
Fill the craters with her secrets,
If for no other reason than for the little girl who once howled to it every night.

Hey everyone! Recently, I found out I reached 1000 followers! This was absolutely unbelievable and utterly shocking. I started this blog about a year or so ago, and since then have had some simply amazing comments and feedback.  It has really inspired me to keep writing, and as a result I have grown so much as a writer. Thank you!

In light of this milestone, I’ve decided to start an Instagram. The image above is an idea of what I will be posting; they will range from fragments of some of my older poems, to completely new ones! Please click here (username: heart.beating.wings) and give it a follow – it would mean the world to me!

Once again, thank you all so much. I promise to continue writing to the very best of my ability 🙂

Lots of love,

Mel xx

To Those Nights

And what is there to do, but douse myself with more alcohol?
I don’t know how else to rouse these ashes within me.
People scream “shots!”, over and over
Until I’m crawling around, looking for bullets.
I spilt my dignity somewhere along with my fourteenth tequila;
I’d look for it, but I think I’ve spent too long on my knees tonight already.

People whisper (not so quietly)
“She’s that girl”, as if they’ve never been here,
As if they’ve never had a night of wanting to forget what it means to exist,
Of wanting to smother their feelings with a plastic bag,
Of wanting to rend their nerve endings.
They think between these sweaty bodies I can’t hear them-
I wish I couldn’t.

I see men eyeing my chest, and I pull down my top a little lower.
His hands run up my legs,
I know somewhere deep down that his fingers are too far
But I don’t stop him-
It’s been a while since someone has noticed the shape of my waist.
I give a smile so sweet he wonders how my teeth have not yet decayed;
The air is hot with steamy breaths
And I iron lipstick stains onto his collar.

3AM, my mother thinks I am fast asleep in bed,
But I am still stumbling down highways, wondering how I came to be so alone alive.
There is only so much time left
Before these lips forget how to smile, forget how to kiss again,
And I am so afraid of having to peel off these sticky clothes,
For this pulsing in my ears to stop, to have to hear my thoughts again,
And oh no I think I can already feel faint stings of regret;
Sobriety is so cold, so silent.

Maybe if I run fast enough, I can still break free from this skin that imprisons me,
Because from where I’m placed, this street doesn’t appear to ever end.
So I tell myself,
Run and run, baby don’t you dare stop,
And I shout to the wind that grapples for my hair-
Try and catch me now.

Femme Fatale

Stilettos click like latches against red brick,
Scarlet talons filed into right-angles.
Pomegranate breasts heavy with tantalising secrets,
Fiery hair tousled, but not from the wind.
Purrs with blazing eyes,

I am vicious in every way that I am vivacious
Poisonous in all my poise

Embellish me with your touch,
And spill Grey Goose down my throat.
Walk your fingers up my thighs
(One more inch, don’t be afraid now)-
Closer, until you can taste my cigarette smoke.
Unclasp my claret lips with your tongue, use it to pull out the words you want to hear,
And I in turn will leave a scar on yours
(But be careful now honey-
That’s not lipstick you see there).

Tattoo your lips into my neck-
We don’t need pills to fall asleep,
Just breathe in my scent, my perfume.
Oh it’s sweet, oh it’s good,
Yes darling, it’s chloroform.


It is said that to write a letter to the moon, you have to fold it 42 times.
I have written letters that have been folded 43, 50 times, just to be safe-
Telling it how we fell asleep counting stars, until numbers lost meaning;
Drank in the moonlight until we were but intoxicated on lustre.

I should think that if I could, I’d tip the entire world upside down, just so I could live in the sky.
And maybe you’d join me, because that way, we’d be able to sleep in the crescent of the moon, and orbit planets until we were dizzy with rapture;
Use stars to skip across galaxies, and chase shooting stars until we found the very boundaries of the universe.

Does the moon know, that time and time again, I find myself scaling trees,
Believing naively that if I conquered the highest one, I’d be able to touch the sky.
And though I grip at trunks with blistered palms,
More often than not, I found myself back at its roots,
Nursing Earth-kissed bruises and twig-drawn scratches.

And so I ask the moon one last time-
Why is it that I can’t find my balance?
And that’s when I hear it whisper,
Its voice carried on wisps of evening wind,

My sweet child, don’t you ever be deceived into believing you lost your footing.
No, if others ever ask you, you tell them you were simply swept off your feet
By this feeling I can only describe as eternity.

I Hope December Brings You…

I hope December brings you reflection,
And you understand that this dizziness in your head from the long and winding road you’re on
Is not from being led astray;
No, it is from being overwhelmed with a myriad of possibilities.
You are not on the road to nowhere-
You are on the road to everywhere.

I hope December brings you audacity,
As you dare to ask the universe for more.
And whether it is snowflakes or sand grains that you catch with your cupped hands,
I hope you know that there will never be dreams too big to fit into your asking palms.

I hope December brings you the ability to stop restraining grudges that have long been ready to be released,
And you learn to understand that sometimes it’s not about letting go, but more about setting yourself free.
I hope you finally stop running away from secrets that have long since stopped chasing you,
Because sometimes coming to a standstill is the only way for you to feel the delirium of your heart,
To pause, in amongst this thicket of Christmas trees, and find the holly berries.

I hope you are no longer the naïve little girl who loved words too much and believed everything you were told,
But I hope you are still innocent enough to fall asleep on the 24th secretly hoping for Santa to come down the chimney.
And on the night of the 31st, I hope you’ll look at the embers of this year that has passed,
Warm your fingers on the dwindling flames of everything your heart has glowed for this year,
And with the sparks, set off fireworks
To propel yourself into the new year.