The summer we were sixteen our bodies became liquid. We spread ourselves over the earth seeping into dirt, shimmering in sunlight.   We were weightless then, invincible, things of beauty. Our skin could not contain our radiance. Light leaked through our pores.     This piece was published in the 2012 edition of Ballyhoo, an annual arts publication of The King’s University College.

Regret slips in quietly sometime around 3 a.m.He curls up in your favourite chair,pulls a blanket over himselfand waits.When you wake upthere he isdozing in your living room.And no matter how silentlyyou go about your morning ritual,he will wake up,he will invite himself to breakfastand stay much longer. This piece was published in the 2011 edition of Ballyhoo, an annual arts publication of The King’s University College.

[IMAGE SOURCE]   Edgar Degas, pastel on paper, 1900-1902   It would not do to come undone   for a stray hair landing on a cheek to suggest imperfection freckled skin uneven seam   It would not do to draw attention   for an unsteady smile or shaking hand to hint at fear teary eyes bitten lips   Take a moment to compose yourself.   It would not do to come undone.     This piece was published in the 2012 edition of Ballyhoo, an annual arts publication by The King’s University College.