After The Vows Are Spoken

In sickness and in health
When the germs creep in by stealth
The brides dried out the posy
And life isn’t quite as rosy
Just know that they’ll be there

Filling your life with cheer.

Little Ginge x


Your Words

Thousands of words scattered
across hundreds of pages
Only two had meaning.

Forgive me.

Little Ginge x


His fingers unlace the corset like patterns on my goose pimpled flesh
Weaving his way in to cup the jewel nestling deep within my rib case
The way he moved so soft and slow, setting my cheeks aglow
He whispers ‘you are mine’ and I am undone

The book turns and folds, taking me down twisting alleyways
And grief stricken paths of re-discovery to contemplate life
Death, love and where missing socks really go in the wash
The book ends on a cliff-hanger and I am undone

Thoughts slip and fade away like smoke caught in a net
And things I used to remember have become a distant memory
The harder I try to grasp and cling to these sad truths

Makes it all the more likely that my mind is undone.

Little Ginge x

Not About You

This poem isn’t about you
Not a single little bit
You’d be horribly mistaken
To think you pollute my writing
I’d never let such poisonous ideas
Seep into my carefully constructed markings
And just because I bludgeon the keys
With the force of Katrina
You assume its directed at you
They said you were conceited
And it’s true
Well I’m sorry to say
That whoever misinformed you was cruel
Because this poem isn’t about you

It’s about the things you put me through.

Little Ginge x

Shot Through The Heart

She’s here
I can smell her
The pillows need to be burned
The sheets a sail for my ship of fury
He touched her in the places he said he wouldn’t
Wormed his way into her heart
And she in turn had stolen his

I smash our wedding photo
Into a million fragments
This is what remains of our marriage
Pieces that no longer fit
Because an act of violence tore them apart
Sure adultery is no gunshot wound
But heals far less safely

Heartbreak wounds fester and sore
Remain exposed, and every cross word
Seeps in to infect them just a little more
Like her love for him
And she needs to stay around to nurse him

I’m just sorry that mine own wounds I inflicted
Were the equivalent of paper cuts
Sure they stung, made him notice me
Made him treat my love with a gentler hand
But really my love was a simple burn
I made an impression
But it faded over time
And now he’s back to manhandling the paper
But it’s gone soft and I can’t slice him anymore
As my love means nothing
Because his new medicine prevails.

Little Ginge x