Category Archives: Poems


Who would have thought that, when we met,
there would have been such a collision of souls?

© Keighley Perkins


What It’s Like To Be In Love

It’s having two toothbrushes in the bathroom
and a drawer of your things in the sanctity of my room.

It’s the shadow of your scent on my pillow
and the echo of your presence against my skin.

It’s the static of your kiss –
like electric longing to my lips –
and your name like kindling to my soul.

It’s having the keys to each other’s house
and all the secrets they shelter.

It’s whiskey philosophies and cigarette confessionals,
night skies and constellations.

It’s the unspoken everything between us
that’s perfectly understood.

© Keighley Perkins

The Silver Screen

At night, my skin becomes a silver screen
across which every touch between us plays.

© Keighley Perkins

Our Goodbye

Sometimes, I find myself
thinking about our goodbye

and the loneliness that rings these bones
like plague bells now that you’ve gone.

These days, there is a void in these bones you used to fill,
but, now, it roams this body like an unanchored sigh,
searching for a harbour or a home.

I know I shouldn’t think of you this way anymore,
but, from time to time, I do.

I guess I’m just hoping you can tell me
how to reconcile myself with the fact
that I miss you to the core,

but that I’m simultaneously
beginning to forget
how your lips felt against mine.

© Keighley Perkins

The Seven Stages of Loving You


I don’t think you realise
just how much I love you,
but, then again, how could you?

There are no words to describe the slow delirium
that spreads through my body like poison ivy
until my chest is a nest of addiction

nor how you storm the gates of this skin
until you exist in the spaces of me
that can’t be out-written.


You make me feel
like you could knock the breath
from the stars,

you leave my mouth
full of commas

and, through all of this,
you’ve taught me
how to do tricks with longing.


I wish you would stop stealing on me like winter
because the blank page of my body aches for you.

There are so many puddles of you in me
deep enough to drown in that I do

and, even though I’m trying
to teach myself how to be alone,
the ghosts of you keep getting in the way.


I know your ghost.
I know its passion.

It’s stripped all words from me
with just that look.

I know that there must be more to life than this,
but drifting in the blue of your eyes makes me doubt it.


You’ve never broken the yoke of my longing
with your hungry hands.

You’ve never let the seas of your eyes
rock the lonely nights by my side.

You’ve never taken me in
when my love was too much
for the boats of these lips to carry.


I was so sure of everything until you.

You didn’t tell me
you were looking for prey
when I met you

and, now, you’re too comfortable a thought
for me to climb out of.


This was a mistake.

I was only meant to love you,
but now there’s a fist
the size and shape of you
in my stomach

and there should be a word
to make you feel the same way.

I just can’t seem to find it.

© Keighley Perkins


There is not enough alcohol in the world
to flush you out of my system.

As stubborn as heartache,
you sit beneath my skin,

cutting paperdolls of yourself
to display around the halls of my body.

© Keighley Perkins


He sits besides me
in the darkness of my apartment,
holding the heartbreak of my hand

with the saddest eyes that I’ve ever seen –
like two puddles at risk of overflowing.

He smells like sleepless nights
and the scent seeps into my skin
the more he holds me.

It’s not the tightest of touches,
but there’s a purpose to it
that means I can’t let go

because it’s been so long since I’ve been touched
that my body is coated with longing like cobwebs

and I need a touch of something
more than loneliness.

© Keighley Perkins