Lilies
So he sang, Don’t Look Back,
but he turned to see
other lives
through his walls. He died
trying to hide. He sang
the line, ‘Murmurs baptise…’
He left a note
and it remains unread
inside my winter blazer, for another time,
when his tears cease to blind.
He downed vodka and pills,
a whole bottle of each,
fantasies like flowers,
and he always just wore one.
***
Tom Bland is a writer and an accidental performance artist. He studied psychotherapy and dream analysis at SOPH and edits the online magazine, Blue of Noon, http://blueofnoonpoetry.tumblr.com.
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