Echoes held,

you are lips against my skin.



“Twelve thousand miles away from your smile,
I’m twelve thousand miles away from me” – Emily Barker

What words I write
don’t echo you? Nobody.
All I am is what you abandon.
Naught, because you left
nothing of me. Am I called empty,
Vacant? Only holes in time
that ghosts the paths I walk?
Oh nostalgia,
tear the flesh
from none existence.
I am never, and alone I walk
with your absence,
my only friend.
Until death shares a thought,
and empty,
I will not be anymore…

Aeternum vale (Farewell forever)

If I lived, were I more
than dust and shadow;
haze in filtered sunrise or
fume across bleak solitude?

In your thoughts was I
complete- or just half lived
and never formed? Is that why
I’m uncreated? Weathered here
or felt in storm- disjointed
by the paths we walk- each day-
in pretence and harmony.
Where is harmony?

Do you still dream?
Those walks in komorebi’s wake,
now seem
so distant- morose and fake.
The years that left
us to their draw- gunslinger-
time pours us out in lies.
and dancing with our bones,
drawing comparison
from death to me-
does your face differ?

Gossamer bore your name-
Emotions thinned
and honed
to hold the world as briefly as your soul.
Delicate and placid,
because dreams on your lips-
sailed fragments and ships-
were adrift
and destinations never reached.
All are lost in cosmic bedlam.
Never etched in sands,
nor felt by your heart.
Do you feel?

We are dust and bones.
Window dressing of forlorn love.
Tears that plague
and interrupt contemplation
with flood and little warning-
we walk along those empty
streets. The storefronts,
decayed and spoilt,
replicate the universe.
And all those dreams
that gave us meaning roll
through fever and purposeless-
swallowed by our final journey-
our extramundane hearse.

Poem © Phen Weston 2017

Untitled, 8th Nov ‘17

‪Your lies, a crypt,‬
‪and now love is grave‬
‪where I forgo our barrow‬
‪with egregious mistake.‬
‪Temper sent to reminisce,‬
‪of all those days we danced-‬
‪and I never grasped‬
‪your verse in mourn- in death‬
‪we call to each other:‬

‪”Name me forgotten, tryst to night.‬
‪I was never yours at all.”‬


‪I muffle existence‬
‪until there is nothing‬
‪but abyss.‬

‪Yet in the empty, all is‬
‪you, and my unhinged dependency‬
‪drags me though ‬
‪another day.‬