Archive for the 'Love' Category


I am in salt air
feet dangling
midday heat singing through the bush.
lover is in my bed,
across the river
sleeping his heavy head through the day.

How you have taken up
residence here.
how my bones speak of you
and blood whispers –
I take 3 steps away
and my nerves stretch.
“go,” they say,
“we need to go”
but all the while
they root in your hands
and tie gentle knots around my wrists.



Let your fingers taste my mouth.
maybe I am honey-sweet,
or maybe I bite
like chilli in a chocolate cake.
Let me let you love me
kiss each knuckle on my hand
(it carries more punch
to feel it more than hear it – )
to say that you will fight
alongside or ringside
when I am too tired to swing,
you will carry me gently to bed
and kiss me into softness.
remind me there is another day
to float, and stinging
only drains us anyway.
Love me into singing silence.
Shush my furrows and my brow-knits
that crinkle down my nose and jump,
into my voice.
You are my deepest breath.
I will hold you in my mouth one moment longer
and kiss you, beautiful,
tasting you tasting me.

July ’14


a beautiful silence
resting on your heart
in deafening rain.
curling steam, wet feet
one then two
feeling each tile beneath the towel

you are electrically aware,
a kinaesthetic lightning-rod.

who were you before this touch?
before this vibrant wakefulness
this fervent sensitivity
how could you say, “awake”
and mean anything
prior to this?

beating, pulsing, resonance
nothing compares
to this brightness
this feeling
is infinite

August 2014

somewhere in the city

Buildings stretch before me
like endless waves of lives.
It’s not your car,
it’s what it represents;
and how I love the one
cycling by at ten to midnight
underneath the plane,
spinning parallel along
the fault lines of the city.

The buildings almost sink into the ground.
It’s not the bricks and concrete,
it’s what they represent;
a living graveyard,
the tombs in which
we keep the breathing.

We are all just waiting.
My lungs live
to rise and fall,
along the gentle tides of my energy
strong, then strong, then weak again.

This time of the month once more,
but for the first time I am letting go.
This place again,
but this time
my lips would tell you no.

my hand unfurls.

You are somewhere in this city,
alone and dark
not thinking of me.
Your jaw clenches in your sleep.
It’s not your tension,
it’s what it represents;
I would have robbed you of your pain,
if I could.  if you’d let me.
Gripped it tight, palm alight,
jagged sharp and burning bright.

I would not have found my own way
following your downward trail.
I need both eyes upturned,
both arms to clear my path.
And you would have stumbled,
without your burning pain
to light the dark.

My hand may be scarred where
you burnt my loving skin,
but it’s not the grip that matters –
but how far we turn within.

May ’14


I will take you home
when you don’t know which way is up
and kiss your
remind you that breath is life
and you should do more of it
and more of me
and more of you
will become uncovered

the slanted light
sun through my venetians
and my skin will heat you,
or a streetlight and open window and
what if the neighbours see
and stars strewn across the who cares

because I am kissing you
as though I’m searching for something
but needing nothing.
you are kissing me
for all the world as though
I was a perfume manifested
overpowering you,
the high
and the vertigo
right on the edge.

October ’13

28.6.13 ii

chase the summer, she thought
but found herself
thirteen thousand k’s away,
a withering tree in winter.
the sun means nothing;
only the gingerbread trail
promise of Soon,
soon, I will
touch you again.

June 2013

Tea House Conversations

“Yeah, relationships are interesting,”
he says,
“I never would have thought…”
never would have thought,
my brain continues
that I could be warmed this way
as by a fire
not just within me
but surrounding me
beholds me
fuels instead of burns me
say the studying nurses
and my memories joy me
as much as theirs.
How ordinary
and extraordinary
this is.

June 2013


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