We lost the road
But I’m still on the same broken path.
I remember your smile
And the punch of the aftermath.
It’s a guitar sound
It’s a drum
It’s a younger man being dumb.
Everything sparking up.
Fireworks – put out,
Feelings, coloured to black and white.
Walk past your house today
Like a shrine, untouchable.
A writer cannot lie to himself
I miss those moments
The warmth of your closer skin.
Now I hide under eyeliner and neon club lights
Never catching another girl’s eye
For fear of falling again.
I’m books and films and songs and paintings,
I’m yesterday but still tomorrow.