I See You


I see you in 2012-2013

I see you in the roses in the meadows that grow near my house
I see you in the sun
I see you in March when you came into my life
And I see you in April when you left.
I see you in poetry books
I see you in every charmer
I see you in every gentleman
I see you in your navy blue dressing gown.
I see you in every Runaway Joe
I see your lips on the nape of my neck
I see you with words
I see you on the grass listening to Beethoven
the sun on your face.
I see you every time I watch Batman
I see you in every blade of grass
I see you on Skype
I see you in every set of blue eyes
I see you at your desk staring out of the window
I see you in robots and heavy metal music
I see you in my Lego ring
I see you from Twickenham to Whitton.
I see you in Old House
I see you in your suit and tie
I see you in Dom.
I see you when I’m drunk
I see you in the Midlands
I see you in Watsky
I see you in the colour red
I see you in texts
I see you in passing ships
I see you in northern accents
I see you in gravy and chips.
I see you in every cup of English tea
I see you on the bus back from Varsity.
I see you drunk, walking, holding my hand
I see your fingers interlocking with mine
I see you in every tall man.
I see you in Kingston
I see you on top of me when it’s him
I see you in Spring.
I see you in every hello
but every goodbye.
I see you in your long black coat
I see you in every spoken word poet
I see you in every hug debt
I see you on SnapChat.
I see you in animated movies
I see you in gargoyles
And pictures of demons
I see you in funny youtube videos.
I see you in Rives
And I see you in the sunflower he spoke of.
I see you in every thumb war
I see you in every love bite
I see you on Strawberry Hill
And I love you still.

You told me you didn’t love her

I learnt to move on. You have to in the end don’t you? Even if it takes months or years. I refused to wake up as a thirty year old woman and still be in love with you.

But for the rest of my life I will wonder what came of you, and how you could look at her in exactly the same way that you used to look at me.

I can’t forget the look on your face when you told me you didn’t love her.

-Tina Rose

Monday Mornings

You reminded me of a Monday morning cigarette break

That between awake and asleep



the day away

With my rolled-up heart

Charred around the edges

 Wishing for white sheets and plump pillows

But lusting for the blackness

That came with your presence.

Your kiss with its darkness

And your charcoal throat

The same warmth

that arrived with a raspy inhalation

of smoke through nose to chest,

My tar lungs and cigarette breath.

Burnt out amber

Of orange and black  

Sparks against pavement

The miniature fireworks

Under my fake Laboutin shoe.

You were my

Narcotic, Insomniac Addiction

Darling, Come Monday morning

I thought of you.

-Tina Rose