there are two kinds of emptiness
One means space
falling over itself
to stretch out,
grow,
and build.
The other
is when something
has been taken away,
scooped out,
gutted.
forgetting
I have come to realise
that one day
we will be nothing more
than loose change,
clinking at the back
of someone’s memory.
photographs
Four tiny walls are not enough
to keep their scene playing
when the characters
are always searching
for new roles.
Yet we are racing against time
while they waltz with it
to a beat they will still feel
when we no longer find it
in our chests.
art: ré ní fhloinn
fragility
Why on earth
do we make teacups
out of porcelain?
Must we be reminded
how every day
can s h a t t e r?
Did someone forget
even mundane tasks
can crack?
When will we accept
that all survival
is fragile?
nostalgia
There are pressure points
between now
and moments from my past,
that loneliness can find
within seconds.
haunted
Some people don’t realise:
they haunt their own words,
they leave unfinished business
in every promise they can’t keep,
they make ghosts out of
I love you
after leaving it for dead.