Poetry

Love hearts

I like how when we’re together and you think no-one’s watching, you give me your last one. A small, round candy piece with a heart on it, which has cute, but mostly silly, cliche messages inside. Be mine. Kiss me.  For keeps. I love you. This time, I give you my last one. Marry me? You bite into it, a nervous laugh leaves your lips as you try to decide if I’m serious or just joking. I’m serious.

Poetry

Nozzle-rama

What do you do if you have a tube

needing a nozzle,

but is nozzle-less?

And while we’re at it,

perhaps we should consider

how nozzle is close to nuzzle,

close as close, yet far apart,

unless you’re applying filler.

 

Discuss.

 

What is in

the nozzle-needing

nozzle-less tube,

anyway?

A hand to hold,

a hug from a friend

undercover as a stranger?

A cart-load of commuters

squashed up in glue?

 

Ah, the nozzle.

 

Hiding down the aisle,

white-feather painted.

Now we can use it

to thrust out

liquid staples into the cracks

that have appeared

in your straining cheeks.

 

It’ll only hurt for a moment.

Promise.