30 May 2011


Humming your Nocturne on the Circle Line,
unlike the piano, running out of breath
I've been writing you out of my life
my loves (one out, one in).
I've pushed you out of the way to see
what the gaps in my life might look like,
how large they are,
how quickly I could write them in;
and not (at least till I've lost you both)
rewriting you only means
that the spaces I'm not writing in are where I live.

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