Games Night
- Chloe Roxburgh
- Jan 23
- 1 min read
by Chloe Roxburgh
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
He threw the card box
Later apologised
Smoothing out its misshapen form
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
In case nobody has told you today
He said
You’re really fucking pretty
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
He stroked my hair
Gently
As we kissed
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
He cupped my face in his hands
Smiling
Planting delicate kisses on my nose
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
His lips traced my collarbones
My shoulders
My elbows
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
He cradled my hands
So delicately
Kissing my wrists
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
He tenderly kissed my stomach
Revelling in my flawed skin
As I stroked his soft hair
He was a nice man
Who smelt like oranges
Just trying his best
It’s just a shame
That I am not
A nice woman.
***
Chloe is a contemporary, conceptual fine artist and writer based in North West Wales. Her practice centres on emotional and deeply personal territory, exploring feminism, parenting, chronic illness, disability, neurodivergence, sexuality, and queerness.
Comments