Posted in Poetry

It’s all a show

Don’t you know?

Facebook is an awful place to go

When you feel like shit

And all you want

Is to switch off.


All the engagements, weddings, raises and praises,

The houses, the cars, and pretty little babies


I’m all alone

At my desk

Thinking of you.


You spread out

Making three seats one

Watching X-Factor or

Britain’s Got Talent

With your phone in your lap

Steaming pizza on the coffee table.

You’re not thinking of me.



I'm currently working my way through a Creative and Professional Writing degree in London.

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