Gossip Column

Glistening acrylics, dripping poison onto the Mac,
The page. Blood red corruption, concealed
By the smoke of the menthol cigarette.
Ducking and diving and turning the truth as black as
The new grey. It doesn’t suit, but you still buy it.
Fucking the editor to glaze over the mistakes.
Shagging for gossip, screwing you over.
Sex sells. No publicity is bad publicity.
Scarlet fingers scratching down your back.
Its exciting, a turn on. Flipping over the pages,
Not so glamorous, there in the fleshy print.
Sensation, the heartbeat of the rustling hustle
Bustle of everyday. Gossip, grande skinny late
In the morning, pinot grigio before bed.
Methodical tap tap of stiletto heels,
Stepping on the faces of the front page.

Portrait

Beautiful shadow, I’m transfixed by you,
Stuck in this myre, quicksand of love.
Where the light is wrong, shading and
Toning inaccurate, I make you up.
Fill in the details, painting by number.
Life by brushstroke, I create you, for me. We.
Imagination’s gift, I present you with a
Portrait, but my eyes cannot catch yours.
Chase, never to be won, misdirected.
Horror in your eyes, shock on your lips.
I blink slowly, trying to mirror your reaction.
The blush on my cheeks is receding,
Emulsioned by Grief’s pale hue. Sketch
This moment, truthfully, then paint it
From another perspective, until the shadow
Is luminous, the uncertainty forged.

Photograph

Optical zoom. I’m close enough to hear
You breathe imagined words of love.
I could count your eyelashes, but when
You blink I can’t keep up. It’s a futile
Pursuit, love. Going nowhere. Green eyes
Go red in the camera, I see passion in
The shot. I stumble over this word, with
Its fatal connotations. Back to the photograph,
Your kissable lips I’m unable to kiss. Teeth,
Stars, smiling life outside the frame,
Revisiting my dreams in the cloudless night.