Wednesday, 23 August 2017


Sometimes I walk by our old spot, there's nothing like looking back to speed up the rot.

There's no echo of us down there, time doesn't care for what you were, the grass is bare, all the birds have flown elsewhere.

I don't believe in ghosts, it's only regrets that haunt you, it's only the things you can't forget that taunt you, the knowledge I was too weak to have successfully fought for you.

We may as well have never been, we made no mark, although God knows you left a fucking great big scar across my heart.

1 comment: