Colin Firth on my commute again

Chug chug chug There are looks and then there are stares And wide-eyed candy floss pink blushes Contained in dim lit, smoke studded carriages Stuffed with meat and bodies and faces and breaths Some of which aren't as sweet smelling As the dulcet tones of Elizabeth Bennett Or Mr Darcy and his linens (I presume)… Continue reading Colin Firth on my commute again

When you realise he’s maybe just not that into you and everything slows to a snail’s pace and you start tearing your hair out and balling your eyes out.

The journey has come to a screeching halt From pedal to floor I heard its thunderous roar As it stopped dead in its tracks. Panic ensued Anxiety came Asking myself "what is this game?" Because we've started shuffling cards, dealing hands And I'm no longer chugging along sands Of limp, moth-eaten metal No carriage to… Continue reading When you realise he’s maybe just not that into you and everything slows to a snail’s pace and you start tearing your hair out and balling your eyes out.