That night in
your car with
the windows steamed
up maybe because
for the first time
in months I
had felt warm
and as the light
slowly melted away
I did not notice
it was the start of
something beautiful
but beauty fades
glory fades
and now you're
fading and I'm left
wondering if it was
ever beautiful
at all

I feel like I’m a fake,
I could never match up to you.
You spun words into constellations
that I could never conceive
only when I read them I knew
your thoughts were different.
There were times when
you wrote about me
but now you are blossoming
without me
and I am nothing but thorns.
Maybe I don’t need you
but you will always run through
my blood as ink or poison
or alcohol
sadly, you don’t need me.

I often wonder
as the night
closes in and
so do the walls
around my mind
I wonder when
it happened in
human evolution
that we would
become inescapably
immobilised by
the hands of a
clock

It was so
on that winter morning
that all the grass
and plants were still,
frozen in place by
the cold chill that rested
on our fingertips
and lashes
it was so
on that winter morning
that when you exhaled
the words
‘I don’t love you
anymore’
into the space
between us they
were accompanied by
a reinforcing cloud
of steam
and i could not fathom
how words that cold
could have been warmer
than the air
around us.

I had a dream one day
that all the angels were
dressed in black as
they spoke my name
i thought they lamented
for me but
i realise now they were
mourning our love.

I watched a moth
flutter meaninglessly
against my wall
white speckled wings
carrying a fragile body
again and again
flying into
the same spot
and in that moment
i felt an empathy
towards that moth
for I know the meaning
of my being just
as little as it did
perhaps less

There is an infinity
between the walls of this room
there is an ephemeral affinity
between midnight and noon
and the curtains at last
would bring rise to an absence
while the ceiling has seen
all our natural afflictions
derisions, incisions left lasting
from storms and from partings
given thoughts it would form
the most honest predictions
there is an infinity
between our vacant caresses
that exist yet only
when my mind digresses