Lavender
I killed my lavender in three days
squeezing delicate buds under my fingernails
like blood-pearls sparkling between my ribs
fragrant skin blushing beneath the sheets
I hear your heartbeat patter on the window
when you are gone and I am left
hugging only the rain
Portobello in the Rain
wet and forlorn
there is me no shore grey and water and grey
seagulls the sea and the rain
washed up tartan caked in wet sand
raindrops on glass
the wind kissing me with the faint smell of weed lingering on its breath
shouting I love you to the other side of the road
I rinse every thought of you out of my hair along with the rain
Csilla Scharle is a Hungarian writer living in Scotland. She writes poetry and spoken word, and is currently pursuing a degree in Applied Statistics.
The Kindling 