The place where you used to sit no longer has your shape. Your framed face adorns a wall, now your presence is gone.
The greeting of the morning and a nocturnal farewell, feeling the cold absence of your corporeal frailty.
The dead, held to our mortality by the strength of grioef memories pulling them back. Tears, tear the seams between existence and the ether, we haunt their souls.
My words for you vibrating in the other world allow you no rest, give you no peace. It is not for you I anguish but myself. So go you are free. - Ciaran Burke
The pavementbore my burdenunder the orangeof suburban nightboxes of uniformitydeveloper of rowsemitting the warm glowunwelcoming blinded lightsthe homogenous hedgesmaintain neighborly relations.I the […]