You had a way with light;
Made it long for you.
Cigarette between lips,
Hair kissing spine, gazing
Out the window at the
Twinkling city below, you
— as reachable as the smoke.
Little did I know then, I,
Just like the empire
— replaceable in the end.
Too-warm nights, sheets discarded.
Endless horror movies, buried faces,
Waking with a start & feeling for the
Reassuring shape. Across-table gazes
& how they swept us away. Laughter
That bounced off the stars. The endless
Comfortable hum of your presence.
These are the things I never noticed.
Philip Elliott is Irish, 23 years old and Editor-in-Chief of Into the Void Magazine. His writing can be found in various journals, most recently Otoliths, GFT Press, Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine and Subprimal Poetry Art. He is currently working on his first novel and a chapbook of experimental poetry. Stalk him at philipelliottfiction.com.