Now, I’m not a poet and I don’t pretend to be

I don’t rhyme and I don’t intend to try

(see how this isn’t a couplet?)

Violet Beauregarde turns into a blueberry

Violet Beuregarde is a contrived blueberry

Turns, turned into a contrived blueberry


Blue/ Purple?




Waiting to burst

Flavoured and possessed by ebbing emotions: rapid and frustrated. Swelling but stifled. Spiralling but contrived as she sees my face. Spiralling and surging but also remaining still. Juices of hurt swell from her throat. Lumped. I see the lump. Clip it, clip the air bubble, and don’t you dare show anyone a single tear. It’s not your time to burst today. It’s not your time to go to the juice room yet, Violet Beaurgarde.

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