It shattered into a million pieces
Shot daggers through my heart
My brother and his anger
Watched his whole life fall apart

Bruised, broken, battered
the moon shone it's beam
Shot arrows off the glass
Aimed it's bow right at me

Silence stood in place
Where once their was a clatter
His ghost a solemn gray
A mug; my brother - shattered

a prisoner so long
forgetting I was the architect
who built the gaol in the first place
and closed the door behind me

carefully designed for room to stand
just enough light to let the hope in
just enough space to sleep and dream
but no chance to go anywhere

I'd let myself out, but I'm afraid
of what lies on the other side
of what I shut out in the first place
the key long lost, the lock rusted

i have cake here, tony made it me,

last year he made a wooden glove box, as my red x one overflowed, the year before a tiny clothes hanger.

only yesterday i hung the knitted clothes i bought in pickering, no room for the pants, i pinned them to the wall. he is brenda’s husband.

she likes victoria sponge,

too.