And suddenly, I can no longer sing
our song anymore.
Its rhythm has lost its way from me,
the heartstrings have been plucked too often,
and my mouth can not utter
the words and lyrics
I had once marked on your lips.
Month: July 2015
The Train Trip Home, Poetry by Ben Marchant
He just sat there.
Peak hour on the train.
He had the blended sexy looks of Kevin Spacey and Heath Ledger.
The hero traits of Crowe.
Had charisma of Colin Firth.
Wasn’t shy!
WILDsound Festival 