There Is Never Any Turning Back Gemma.

Clothing Left On The Bed Unfolded. Books Stained With Coffee Spots. Tabs Not Paid Until The Last Possible Second. Boys Kissed And Then Forgotten In A Week’s Time.

In A World Beyond This One, That River Goes On Singing Sweetly, Enchanting Us With What We Want To Hear, Shaping What We Need To See In Order To Keep Going. In Those Waters, All Disappointments Are Forgotten, Our Mistakes Forgiven. Gazing Into Them, We See A Strong Father. A Loving Mother. Warm Rooms Where We Are Sheltered, Adored, Wanted. And The Uncertainty Of Our Futures Is Nothing More Than The Fog Of Breath On A Windowpane.

I Feel Like I Swallowed A Magritte. Like On The Inside, I'm Made Of Clouds And Floating Eyes, Green Apples, And Slowly Rising Men In Bowler Hats.

The Night's Chilly Breath Tickles Up My Neck And Finds My Ear, Whispering Secrets Only The Wind Knows.

Will You Punish Me Forever?