In Galway gone, an age ago
where crumbling stones did meet the sea,
I walked where lonely mists did blow,
and in the shadows found I thee Continue reading “Galway Gone”
There are 20 minutes left in this day, and I’m ready not to think anymore.
All I want to do- were I unhampered by all these pressing eyes- is to sit and think, staring at nothing in particular, about your face. I wonder how it’s changed since you’ve been gone? I say that you’ve been gone because you left, even though it was more of a literal inevitability than a gesture of abandonment. It didn’t feel any better.
15 minutes left. Continue reading “Minutes”