by St. James


I’m thinking of sewing
prawns in your curtains
or scratching an
on your car
with my keys.
I’m thinking of painting
your shame in a mural
or etching your name
on my forehead and knees.

So if you open your door
and sniff something aquatic
I’ll admit it was hasty
and somewhat dramatic
but just think of that day,
and think of that note,
then think on that smell,
as I wallow and gloat.



the almost
fills me with a terror I
cannot begin
to quell;

not to throw up the stars at midnight,
not to dance under the canopies at dawn,
not to do the
to do,
to do,
to do;

not to
taste the
of you.


St. James | @stjamesundays

St. James is a writer, actress and Buffy and Austen aficionado. She has a Sunday column @NEstablishment and can be found at @stjamesundays.

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