With the weld of uisce beatha and dust in the cracks of the floor,
your wounded gaze seemed more real than ever.
Except you streamed so far away,
I didn’t know your makeup one bit.

But your immediate notions to flag little drops of talk, and your question of where I am, it makes me think -
and elates me to fall asleep in your palm.

You will breathe more fragments than my eyes,
fragile illusions, and white lies you weave.
But if I wonder how far you go,
with others on stage,
where I know you're seen by everyone, I may see reality.

Do let me go, and say no more words
in that regard; I know your kiss goodbye
is it.
You've already bared another retreat.

Because I watched, as she looked at you,
as you laughed with her,
as I tried to finish my pint.
My spadework that shovelled so far into nothing,
made me understand, that of your fumbling hands.

I know you imagine the flip of intensity into our thirty seconds of intimacy,
but that’s it.
You don’t remember I’m a person, with emotions.