You know that I need this sweet breath of air
to fill my lungs with dreams that find my head
my love, you try to stitch me up instead
the lack of you, it leaves my lungs so bare
I cry for your love, I scream for your care
But to you, I still lie, chained to the bed
Surrounded with an air of hasty red
My sheets now show the stains of spirit shared

You try to tell me all will soon be lost
A careless spill of courage and of doubt
For someone so soft, so sad, so damn sick
But you are worth no, love, or care, or lust
No matter how you try to show me out
A girl like me, you just can not unstick


It never gets better than this.
The aching sound, the dullest taste.
Your stinging fingers on her waist
you pull her tight, you tell her this
“The nicest girl I’ve never kissed”

A shining light, a painful tongue
you want to love, you want to feel
her mouth has what you need to heal
you want to touch, you want to run
But this love has just begun

And then it ends, the feeling dead
you see the blood roll out her eyes
A gift just for her empty thighs
But she sits so still inside your head
An image only you can agonise

The beautiful girl, the dying look
her lips a gap you want to fill
you hold her hand, you feel the chill
of pages turning in a book
the feeling, she could make you spill

On the 4th blog of Christmas…

My mother always told me
That there’s more to a mince pie
Than the pastry on the top
and the filling that’s inside

But one day I did ask her
full of curiosity
What is actually in a pie and
why is it called minced “meat”?

“Well Tilly,” she began to say,
as she knelt down to my height
“Maybe you should ask santa
what you’d find in a mince pie…

Because it’s santa’s elves who make them
And they really must be proud
Because they are so very yummy
and they are so perfectly round…”

“Yes but mummy what’s inside them?”
I asked her, my voice becoming low
She just laughed, tapped her nose 
and said:
“wouldn’t you like to know!”

But that night I lay in bed
and dreamt of what could be
Inside of those mince pies…
Why wouldn’t she tell me!?

So I waited til the morn
And asked her once again
“What is in a mince pie!?”
and she told me something strange

“The reason they never tell you
is they’re quite misunderstood
Because the elves who make the mince pies…
Are why they taste so good…

They mix them up so well
And they make them all themselves…
but the reason no one tells you,
is because they’re made of ELVES”

I looked at her in shock
And a shiver cut right through
But she gave me such a look
That I knew it must be true.

“But it’s not a bad thing!”
She quickly told me so
“For them it is a good thing,
and I really hope you know –

They do it to the old elves
Who have served santa well
and they line up by the mincer
and wait to hear the bell”

I listened very closely
Because I didn’t know what to say
and my mother told me something
That blew my mind away

“When the bell starts ringing
The elves all dive right in
And the younger elves start singing
to celebrate their win

Only the kindest elves
Get to become a mince pie
Because it’s very important to santa
That the mince pies taste just right”

And then it all made sense
“That’s why they’re so delightful!
But I wonder what they do to the elves
Who have been a little spiteful…”

“That,” said my mum
“Is not a story for tonight,
after all how do you suppose,
Santa’s beard is quite so white?”

On the 3rd blog of Christmas…


Dear Santa,
This year hasn’t been the best, I think we can all agree.
But I think despite this, I have been very good, and that is why I would like to ask for a little extra this year.
First things first, I really want a blanket. Not just any old blanket – a thick, cozy blanket that’s like a duvet for the sofa, because really I am just an old lady at heart.
Secondly, I want my mum to have a pain-free Christmas. Her EDS plays up something chronic in the cold weather and – well; let’s just say that nobody wants a painful Christmas.
Another thing: there’s going to be lots of us together at Christmas. A very busy household… It would be great if you could make sure that there were no arguments, and everyone got along just swell.
 You know what, while I’m at it, I might as well ask for world peace. I know it’s a big task… but maybe just one day would be fantastic… and then everyone would see what they were missing out on when they spend the whole time fighting. 
I also want to wish a Merry Christmas to a few people I have met on buses throughout the year:

  • The man who I sat next to that one time when a lady tripped him over with her walking stick
  • Archie, a special friend that I never thought I would have met on the bus that day
  • The guy that looks just like my Grandpa (but definitely isn’t him)
  • The baby with a moustache that pulled my hair
  • The man who eats jelly with his fingers
  • And the lady who told me all about her holiday. Have a lovely time in Gran Canaria!

And that’s just to name a few!
So Santa, I know it’s a big ask… but can you make sure that they all have a great Christmas too? Thanks, I think they really deserve it. 
But you know who else deserves it? Every single person that’s put up with my nonsense for another year… and will have to continue dealing with me for the next year – hopefully, (please don’t leave me).
All in all, I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas! Don’t forget to eat as many mince pies as you can, I know I surely will be!
 All my love and the happiest holiday,
Matilda xxx


I used to think that maybe if I stayed still enough that I would maybe just stop. Like my lungs would forget to breathe and the blood would stop running through my veins and my heart would stay so still that my brain would think I was dead and finally just switch off. I would be so still that even God would think I was dead and he would pick me up and take me to heaven and I would be happy and safe. But then someone I loved told me that liars go to hell, and I realised I would end up there because I lied my way to heaven and I faked it all, so I tried my hardest to never stay too still for too long and the thoughts continued to race through my mind, and my blood kept on running through my veins. But now, I think of dying again and the thought of hell doesn’t seem so bad. I guess what I’m trying to say is maybe anywhere is better than here.


I don’t think they ever did


I am nothing but a tiny tree in a forest of 7 billion. My roots are tight to the ground, sucking up life and water and all things pure, yet an unfilter fills it with dirt and sadness and suddenly I am the smallest tree of them all for I don’t have what I need to be tall like the others. So I hang my head in sadness and blend in with the leaves. Nobody will remember you. Will anybody remember me? I try to smile because that’s what people like but now that you are unfiltering my smiles, they become frowns and people don’t like to look at those. Why would they? I don’t think they ever did.

Sometimes I like being sad and angry because at least that beats feeling nothing at all. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nobody, nobody, nobody is here. Just pretend just laugh, just pretend that there is no unfilter and that you are surrounded by people who are listening, who love you, who will remember you. Maybe they will. Maybe they do notice. But why would they do that? I don’t think they ever did.

So I listen to music with no words because I have so many words and just one more will make me explode in to colour. At least then they’d maybe remember me… But instead I’ll implode and then I will remember and never forget, and still I will blend in to the leaves. I can’t use words but I can use looks why can’t anybody see, why can’t anybody know? They’re probably all too busy thinking about their own words. Maybe they are thinking about what I could say. Maybe they are thinking about me. But why would they do that? I don’t think they ever did.


This is a piece of writing that pretty much fell out of my mouth when I was feeling creative! I hope you like it. P.S I am very aware that unfilter isn’t a word (or is it..?)

Tilly 🙂



I came downstairs to find you making breakfast in the shirt I lent you last night, humming along to my favourite song on the radio and I think that’s when I fell in love.
Now we’re standing here on opposite sides of a hallway waiting for the other to say it’s all going to be ok and it’s all going to work out, but we both know that’s not true, because no matter how many times someone says they love you, it’s never enough to stay

Bathroom sink

I fill the sink right to the top
I promise this time I won’t stop
I drink and drink from the bathroom sink
til my belly’s full and I feel quite sick
But I won’t give up this time
I’ll drink until I split my sides
Fill my bladder to the top
Maybe this is time to STOP
The thinking just keep drinking
feel the bad thoughts slowly sinking
Just one more gulp it all goes down
Do you think they’ll love me now?



I feel like being ill in the head is just like being vulnerable where you shouldn’t be. Like when you’re out in the cold and the areas that aren’t covered feel the cold, but the skin that is covered feels so warm and makes you feel secure. You know you’re vulnerable when the cold starts seeping through your clothes and you can’t stop yourself from shaking