All Mops and Brooms

Fragile, delicate, quite a bit confused
and more than a little tipsy.
She side-steps, accidently,
into the cobblestoned gutter.
Shaking her tired head
at her own clumsiness.
Whilst setting pretty teardrops
free in the process.
Which surprizes her somewhat,
for she had not been aware
that her rampant feelings
had liquidized into the physical realm.
It’s but a half a mile walk home
through the bottom end of Cheapside.
She cringes and tightens her fists
inside the pockets of her shabby coat
and chuckles bitterly at the word ‘Home’
as it neons mockingly through her mind.
She has only sixpence, three matches,
a pencilled likeness of his shadow
and the clothes she’s stood up in… left.
Eighteen immeasurable months later
and she still cannot drink away
nor escape or move on from
that Bastard memory of him
closing the door upon her for the last time.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.