Labels written in a clear, neat hand.
Evidence held in little jars.
I note daily degredation of samples left:
- The pride I placed upon my head
To shout aloud your views expressed
Bottled here, beneath my bed,
- The hope I once wore as a badge
Hammered to a rusting shield,
Edges worn, and thin and sharp
Trails its iron through my heart,
- Joy that shone like glitter paint
Suspended, hung amidst the fog
It caught the light reflected from
Your sense of self-entitlement.
I loved you. Not well but long
And now you slip and creep away.
Leaving me for someone young
A fresh experiment begun.
All Rights Reserved – Alicia Fitton 2019