Stranger sleeps next to me apologises for disturbing out of politeness rather than earnestness. "I have to go" (I wish he would, or shut up, if he could) but stays some more, finally ends up on hard stairs, asleep, alone.
Once upon a time there was a girl who liked writing poetry.
One day, she wanted to share a short poem with a friend and did so in the quickest way she knew how; via a text message.
Immediately this created a tangible form that had to be followed by function. Character limit and the universal language of SMS with the line breaks and lack of font-freedom threatened to quash originality.
However, she persevered, and here today you can see some of those results. Her name is Rosie, and she would be glad to hear of your opinions and thoughts on her short poems. Maybe, if you send her an email with a phone number, you might get your very own one day.