She fell pregnant.
He remembered the words...

I wrap myself
in cotton compliments...

an invasion of
loaded questions...

I still find comfort
in the way you run your fingers...

If you go fishing by morning light,
there are trinkets and jewels upon the lakeside...

We fled
into the evening...

Some of us are
tucked into the epicentre...

A mimicry
of what it used to be...

Bestriding the cliff’s great precipice
talons stained red with elephant flesh...

Are you looking
for redemption here...

Echoing up the street,
a busker's trumpet...

Like the
searing glow of ominous...