Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Summarising Goa Unkindly

Gold flakes. Light.
Passed around.
Brightly burnt.

You. Your arms holding.
Never me.
Me. My arms always holding.
Cold cold breezers. Or anything poured in glass.
Breakable. Often broken.

Alone in a crowd.
Friends. Family.
Just not mine.
Never mine.

The beach so sunny
So hot on the skin
now so dead.
Losing memories and creating realisations.
Me, always running. Away.

Truths I'd rather not see.
Never have seen.
Context, perspective.
A horizon too far to say.