Wednesday Morning

Been up for hours
already.
The sky’s too blue:
a painted eggshell
about to crack.

Heard your voice
in a dream last night.
I’m so bored and lonely
I wouldn’t care
if I heard the devil,
actually.

God, it’s only
9am and
I feel so bloody old.

Keep thinking
everything would be different
if you were here –

only it wouldn’t be,
really,
would it?

by Charlotte Graham

Other poems of GRAHAM (1)

Comments (1)

As I read this my heart pulled towards the same star that shone on you as you wrote this poem- so brilliant!