Please. I’d give you my tongue
and let you put it inside the clock,
move the hands back
so we have more time to stick.
You’ve proved that you’re everything
always behind me, every hour on the hour
ready to eat.
Told you I’d stay for the entire evening,
let you turn the room
into a pop-up restaurant.
I’ll go out and get the matches,
an appropriate record
and a dessert we can heat up,
the kind that melts in the middle.
By the time I come back
the room will have grown darker.
I’ll be a cheap dress with an empty glass in her hand
smiling and blind enough.
A small chip on your front tooth
and the big bad wolf in your eye,
let me apologise when I ask for the time,
I should ‘get going’
we’ll have all the essentials
to throw a party.
The bed is filled with wax
and your arms are wax
stuck around my wax back,
I think about cutting them
to keep you around.
Heathrow is the sexiest airport
Hours burn mid-air / I suck salt from the nut / before I consume you entirely / A sideways tear for impending death / seeps onto the pillow / leaves home / my body for love / You hold us / Yet you hold more us / than most / Legs become sticks of wax / I Practice staying still / Arms grip as we shake back down to dry earth / Baggage claim / where I get lost / My things packed up / sucked back into one lonely bag / You know who’s flocked the gate in white lilies / for you / I last as long as you do / leave like cocaine spit / on / the / lip / My name waits without a sign / No body to collapse into / I collect the ashes
Sophia Georghiou is a London based poet. Her poetry has previously been published in The Dirty Paws Poetry Review, the Poets Versus Sexual Harassment anthology, Forever Endeavour Online Magazine and she has forthcoming poems in Lemon Curd Magazine. She has a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing completed at the University of Winchester.