God shaped holes

Was it removed like an inflamed


Do you finger the scar and realise you’ve been misled

Into the slate desert where the candles

Never stay alight

And you’ve tried to jam in different


Sex, drugs, art, politics,

But in the end

You look at those who kept theirs

Or had one transplanted from a willing donor

And wonder how you’ll ever get through the book you started

My book Until She Sings is out now https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07XJRDND8/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_apa_i_e9pLDbMJNZQ4E


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