It’s out! My first self-published book of poems.

Sound the alarm, peeps and peepettes – my first self-published little book of things is out! Love Letters to No One in Particular has technically been years in the making, and includes poems about love, loneliness, heartbreak and more. Test readers have been known to cry, so you have been warned. So, without further ado, here it is!

Click here to go to the download page

I am so proud of this book, and of myself for finally publishing it. It’s been a difficult couple of days, worrying over whether it’s really “finished”, wondering if it’s any good, wondering whether people will like it… But sometimes you’ve just gotta throw it into the world and move onto the next thing, letting people enjoy your creation, letting them form their own opinion. It’s an act of letting go.

A note – This book, and all future ebooks that I send out into the world, will be pay-what-you-want, which means you can literally pay whatever you think the book is worth. If you download the book for free and later think “Oh man, I wish I’d given her some money” you totally can, since there’s a big shiny “donate” button. If you do, that’s amazing and I love you, if you want to but can’t, I understand that entirely and I thank you for simply wanting to, I love you too. If you don’t want to, then that’s fine as well. I love you anyway.

Update on the book

I honestly thought that my book, Love Letters to No One in Particular, was going to be finished soon. I’d gotten proof readers, I’ve made mock ups of the PDF, I’ve formatted all the text all pretty.

And now I’m realising it needs a whole new section, with a whole bunch more poems in it. Something about the book as it stands didn’t feel “ready”. Sometimes things just are pretending to be ready, like the children who puff their chests out and say they’re an adult now when they have a lot of growing to do. My book was doing that. Maybe I was doing that.

For a long time, I had this stupid idea that in order to be an artist, you had to be a little bit mysterious. A bit sexy, seductive. I thought being miserable was the same as being deep and artistic. But if you’ve ever met me, you’ll know that despite my best efforts to be cool and sexy, the main descriptor of me is “adorable” and “cute”. I’m the one who, no matter how terrible things are, will always try to be optimistic because there is always a bright side, no matter what. My book isn’t adorable or cute. It’s real, it’s true, it’s painful and it’s raw. But how it stands right now, it isn’t optimistic. It ends without hope, without the ray of light. It just sort of… ends.

So I need to add to it. And that’s why it’s not out yet. But it will be – soon. It’s just trying to be born prematurely.

Made Of Glass

I am made of glass
Wrap me in cotton wool,
Keep me safe, protect me

I’ll break down with the truth,
Keep reality away from me,
Let me live in fantasy

The secrets protect me,
As I am warm inside this cave of lies
Encased by wishful thinking

Hold my hand,
Your grip is stronger than you know,
I want to let go,

I try to pull away,
Your grip tightens,
Who is protecting who?

Be Alone With Me

Be alone with me,
We’ll count the stars, wordlessly,
But together

Be alone with me,
Laugh at secret, private jokes,
Meet eyes for a moment, smile,
And go back to our own world

Be alone with me,
Our legs touching,
The warmth of your body,
While I explore the secret places of my mind

Be alone with me,
Until we draw each other in again,
Breaking the silence,
Returning to togetherness

Something I’ve Done

I thought if I was prettier,
If my hair was softer,
If I wore the right clothes and
Wanted the right things

I thought that if I laughed at the same jokes
Shared the same views
Liked the same shows and
Danced to the same music

I thought that if I sat the right way
Or had the right shape
Or dyed my hair the right shade
Or had the right perfume

But it wasn’t something I’ve done,
It was someone I am,
Can I change who I am?
Should I change who I am?

If I become someone new,
Would it make a difference at all?
Or would it just be another something.
Something I’ve done.

Campfire Kisses

Our first kiss beside the campfire
Your cigarette breath, and your warmth,
I think I fell in love with you instantly.
It was like being punched in the chest by a steam train
And jumping into a bed of pillows.
Your arms wrapped around me, and our breath mixed,
Nervously, as new kisses are,
But then more confidently as the kiss was returned.

Of course there were bad times.
There were moments when you hated me.
When I hated you.
When I hated myself for not being good enough for you.
But the way you looked at me, like I was the most
Beautiful girl in all the world
I miss those moments.

We don’t speak anymore.
The only time I see you is when I
Facebook stalk your profile and I hope
That you are happy
That you’ve found someone again
That you can hold them and
Laugh with them and
Cry with them

So all I have of you are memories,
Of the good times,
And the bad.
And miss what we had, powerfully.
Campire Kisses

Strange Things are Happening…

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I seem to be on a bit of a poetry high lately… It’s because I’m choosing poems to go into my book, Love Letters to No One in Particular. But, I’ve also been writing songs for The Invisible Girl, and that’s a little bit exciting, and by “a little bit” I mean I’ve been jumping around like the Duracell rabbit from excitedness.

One day I will be cool.

Some fun things are happening and I wanted to share! If you take a gander at the right of this page, I’ve added a donation button to this blog. That’s because I’ve decided to take my art more seriously, and I want to start making money from my creations. My work will always be free, and I’ll always release my poems, songs and art to the world as free as it can be, for numerous reasons that I will get into on a different blog post. But, I also know that receiving money for what you do is important because being able to eat and drink and have a life is actually, ya know, essential for all this life-stuff. I’m pretty sure you get it.

So, the donate button is there and if you at all want to support me that is extremely amazing and exciting and thank you thank you THANKYOU, all of the gratitude goes to whoever choses to do that. And if you want to support me but can’t, thank you anyway, for wanting to. Because wanting to means you want me to do well and you want to see me do what I love and that is a huge deal. I’m doing this because I love writing poems and songs and making weird art and to know that people appreciate it and enjoy what I do means more than I can even hope to express.

Other exciting things, I might be sort of maybe having a gig soon? I err, don’t know any more details than that. I mean, literally, I have no idea what is going to happen with that. But I’ve never had my own gig before and that’s friggin’ amazing. I might even play some of my own songs that I’m writing for The Invisible Girl… More information will come soon, honest.

And, if you haven’t been on my Facebook page or my tumblr, I have finished the cover for the book:

Most of the poems will be what I have published on here but I’m also going to throw in a few new ones, too. At first it’ll be an ebook, and then I’ll start making it into a real, self published book which I’m going to sell right from this site, so keep an eye out for that!

I’m also teaming up with a couple of friends to create poems for this little book. I love collaborating with other artists to make something extra special and that’s honestly everything I’ve ever wanted this project to be. I might be a solo artist / musician etc, but art to me is about bringing people together and working on something new and spreading joy and wonder, and I promise I’ll stop being cheesy in a minute but oh god, I’m genuinely happy that this is becoming exactly what I wanted it to be! 🙂

Until next time…

Pull Me Back

I walk, and I run, and I’m
Breaking the bridges
Stretching and snapping, you
Want me back in

You follow me, chasing me,
Duct-taping the crossings,
Reeling me, dragging me,
Pull me back in

I’m full and you’re
Empty, I’m sweet
And you salivate,
Hold me down, keep me safe
Lock me back in

My cage and your
Lock, and I
Curl up inside you and
Want nothing more than to
Put me back in

I’m comfortable, resting, I
Peacefully dream again,
Suddenly everything’s
Twisting back in,

You hit and you strangle, I
Remember everything,
All of the nightmares, the
Fear is back in

I run away, crawl away,
Squeeze into my
Hiding place,
Stretching and and snapping you,
Don’t come back in

But you follow me, chasing me
Comfort with words again,
Reeling me.
Dragging me.
Pull me back in


We start nothingy

We combine. We begin to grow.

We come into the world. We cry, we breathe, we eat, we sleep. We learn to laugh before we can learn to walk.

We evolve into bigger creatures. Fall out, fall in. We grow up; physically and eventually mentally, though I admit that one can take longer. Growing up is often realising how appropriate childishness can be.

We never stop changing. Day by day our face ages, our bodies frail. We never stop growing older, or younger

We end nothingy.

To Create Something Beautiful

To create something beautiful, I painted my nails
so they would shine like the sun
But I was not beautiful.

To create something beautiful,
I wore short skirts
blushed when they looked
But I was not beautiful.

To create something beautiful,
I dyed my hair
A shade so strong I would be noticed
But I was not beautiful.

To create something beautiful,
I cut my wrists
To prove I could feel,
But I was not beautiful.

To create something beautiful,
I took too many pills,
drank alcohol until I threw up and swore at strangers
But still, I was not beautiful.

To create something beautiful,
You looked at me, smiled and held my hand
and made butterflies dance in my stomach
and let me dance in the rain, sing loudly and
oh, so, proudly, knowing,
that I was beautiful