TuRn oF A sCreW

I could write about how
My heart bleeds, how
The morning sun brings a
million shining cuts
How, the clouds have no
business being
How the pain twists here
like screws
Within my gut

I could write about the horror
in,
The sound of a laugh, or
how
When the birds sing it just
Cuts me in half, or
The empty chair on the patio
there, or
Your laughter, that still echo's
In the air, but

None of that describes this
thing at all
All of it just scribbles
On lifes wall
To be endured in an age old
way, and
Nursed alone in breaths cold
day
While life and all its essence
carries on...

Without us

I miss you

M P  21/1/21

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