Sometimes I wonder

That something will disturb this perfect state of fragility

(And I am desperate for it to be disturbed)

That in my everday living

In the backdrop of a video filmed on parisian streets

I will glimpse you strolling in the back

Your browning midriff exposed between the crisp white of your linen shirt as it sashays with the Bracelets tangling loosely off your arms

Head down, as if aware of being on film

And with someone else, a beautiful, parisian lover, in hand

(it’s a man, you roll your eyes, I do too)

I watch from behind the screen

Intruding on your perfect glamour

Unable to even reproach your beauty

Deface the wall of my stability

Ruin me entirely for one final dose of your existence

To think that once there was a time where I could have been stifled by you

And now I lie aching for one last fatal drop

By Kate Moran

(Some from the archives)