Synaesthesia Magazine Red | Page 17

near the binbags and boxes

it all happened before

to someone I knew

way before you

I'm an addict for sadness, for its

t e a r s and its roar

that Monday we broke

made our own

separate

ways

you didn't even slouch

or letyourselfgo

while I broke down

to a man on the street;

he had the same tattoo as you.