This hangover has got me reminiscing about the days we spent together, inseparable and enamoured.Our last fuck was to Doja Cat’s Streets. We didn’t even say a proper goodbye that night. I admit that it still cuts deep. Fuck, I’ll say it, I hope you’re happy. Knocking back drinks with the girls, acting like we … Continue reading In Hell, an Irish bar
Poem: We’ll hug (for the times)
Familiar respite; Reading Keats, listening to Morrissey, drowned in sadness. Scribbling away in a battered notebook of poems about love and loss: poems you've read and poems you haven't. You told me you pictured our future. Just weeks ago, blissful as ever. Now you claim just friendship. By last night you'd called me a twat. I've … Continue reading Poem: We’ll hug (for the times)
Ben Brizell 