Looking at life through distorted lenses.

A man in a suit,

standing at the door.

Why doesn’t he remember?

Just throws a wad of money,

and walks away.


Hands wrap around everywhere,

holding, supporting, helping.

The head leans round,

a kiss on the cheek.

From a man with no face.


Outside, there’s nothing but Skye,

smiling in that knowing way.

She holds two scraps of metal,

pinned together, inside

A million words. Never written.

The End

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