Blackcurrant juice got me drunk
the night you left me

I sat on crumbs and talked with the carving knives.
Your eyes
Stared up oppressed at me from the gleaming rims.

The kettle rumbled like an imminent eruption,
like the love that once boiled inside of me
too scared to speak aloud.

when I swallowed it stung all the way down.

December ’05


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x





All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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