Scrolling through your old quotes and seeing who you were when you wrote them.

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When a page in your diary resembles the person you remind yourself that you are not.

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Mother hurrying to keep leftover biscuits in an airtight container.

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He shaped my dreams
while ironing my school uniform.

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You are already a poet
if the silence of the night
doesn't let you sleep.

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You are already a poet
if withering flowers
remind you of youth.

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You are already a poet
if you love what you write
even when it doesn't rhyme.

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can write on flowers without thorns,
yet prick you deep
and leave to wonder if you bleed
the colour of the flower
or the poet's heart.

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