Monday morning.


An escalator carves its way deeper into the underground.
I am almost carried by the swell of the crowds, hurrying to board their train.
The air is thick with Monday and still full of sleepy dreams, bleary eyes and creased shirts.
Excuse me, sorry, can I just, do you mind?
I catch a gaze that was never meant to be thrown.
We nod to each other and acknowledge.
And amongst the hustle, we are humbled just to be people again.





Copyright Rich Harris. 2016.


When there isn’t a click.


What are you doing tonight, wanna hang out?
I know you’re already here; still tucked away in that secret place.
You look different, I haven’t seen you for a while but you still excite me. Still shiny.
I’m not sure I’m ready for this. Is it ok if we just hang out a bit, watch a movie or something?
It’s been a rough week. I need you with me. You can make it right.
You feel cold. Let me hold your hand(le).
I’ll warm you up.
Yes, I have been crying. I’m sorry. I can’t hold it in sometimes.
You know me so well.
Come a little closer. I want to kiss you. I want to feel you in my mouth.
You seem to understand me.
I’m not sure; I think it’s a little after 4am? Yes, it’s still raining.
I’m not really watching this movie. I don’t think you’re enjoying it either.
Are you hungry? I know you’re empty inside. I can remedy that. I have your favourite snack, still in the drawer.
Well, this is awkward. It doesn’t feel right tonight, you feel it too?
Stay hungry – I should put you back.
Not tonight. Maybe I’ll see you soon?
I really wanted there to be that special click.
Maybe I’ll see you soon.
Maybe next time, you won’t go hungry.
Maybe next time we will kiss.

Copyright © Rich Harris 2016

Love & hate.


He once said I love you
He once held you tight
You slept at his chest and felt safe in the night

He tenderly kissed you
One time he cried
So thankful, so humbled you were at his side

He had his suspicions
But cast them away
Angry for thinking you may dare to stray

He secretly watched you
You hadn’t a clue
Emotions torn open, he saw it was true

He paced up and down
And then looked in your eyes
You begged for forgiveness for telling him lies

He couldn’t contain it
His anger exploded
You were your own bullet in a gun that he loaded

He’s holding you under
His hands round your throat
Submerged under water, you can’t keep afloat

It’s all going black now
He loves you so much
He tightens his grip for that other mans touch

He’s sorry my darling
He’s sorry of course
You’re silent and peaceful, he’s filled with remorse

He once said he loved you
He was your soulmate
You killed him, he killed you, that’s love and that’s hate.

A poem by Rich Harris. Harris&Harrison 2016 ©


The beautiful moment just as the sun is starting its ascent, the sky burning with orange, red and pink. Half of the world behind me still deep in inky, darkness and half ahead eagerly ready to draw breath.Playful breezes run around me in short, wispy bursts, begging me to stop and play.

Below, the ocean thrashes against angry, jagged rocks in thick, white fury. Her anger is strong, unlike her coy encouragement only moments before.

It is 5:17am. There is not a sound that can wake me, nor a force that can shake me as I stand in my euphoria.

Sirens still scream but are losing their temper amid the groggy darkness, and as the policemen shout, their words stay tangled in the night behind.

She is quiet and I look down upon her limp body, twisted and broken.

Police dogs strain angrily against their leads, spitting and snapping for me.

Feeling a sting in my eyes I realise I am crying, and as the wind continues to bully me, I allow myself to break just a little bit more.



A poem by Rich Harris. Harris Harrison© 2015



The Passion. 


Our eyes locked in a sudden, panicky stare – desperate, petrified but trusting, both unwilling to look away, fearful that if either broke the gaze, something bad would happen. Something terrible.Here in this vice like grip, we were both having trouble catching our breath, snatching at air whenever we remembered to.

My wrist started to burn under the hold of his cold, clammy fist. He was too powerful, but too weak to let go.

I could hear my own heart, thrashing around inside my chest. I could hear his too – beating in an excited, erratic rhythm.

As I looked deep into his eyes, I saw nothing but anger, and as he looked back into mine he saw the reason.

I tried to scream out something, anything, but my mouth fell silent.

Soon it will all be over, he thought.

Soon it will all be over, I thought.

And from a dark shadow high above us, the flash of a cold blade cut through the air with lightening speed, ploughing deep into a white light inside me. And there it remained, even after it was withdrawn, with shiny, silver blood, with my life.

I don’t remember who screamed louder, us both howling like animals, both with eyes wide. Terror and excitement, panic and fury. Love and lust.

And then we slumped to the ground, like lovers, both spent after a passionate night together. A different type of passion. A raw, bloody passion.

He held me for hours in a warm embrace, our shallow breathing calming and falling into a slow, synchronised dance.

We took forever fly away, but he stayed there with me, protecting me. Protecting what he had done to me, what he had done to us. And as I left, he knew I would never leave him again.


A poem by Rich Harris. Harris Harrison© 2015