Work Text:
Is there anything -
Marmalade stains the floor
Graphite is lodged deep in my arm somewhere
Or so -
someone tells me I am handsome.
I do not see it.
- black feathers fell down the chimney
My eyes are
blue. Grey, green, brown skies
Autumn is when I try to write.
Winter is when I wish I could.
If I could only
Choose his name
Would I feel better?
In spring when daffodils -
in summer when something.
Slips and there is gravel in my knee.
Gravel in my palms.
The grit brushes -
hair away. cut short. again. from short.
An apple with a bite out,
Sticks.
Gravel,
might still be there.
I have moved on,
With the same marks and tarnished spots.
Spring and it's fruits (daffodils, so sweet).
I will comb my fingers, through my dark hair, and run a finger along my cheekbones, jawbones.
- 25th August 2020, Ernest