Bitter // Recoil

Hudson Greig, Contributor.

Your intimacy leaves

Recoil; the taste of lemons,

Rotting beaches

And lacerated skin.

Enclosed, I gasp for silence,

The freedom of ignorance

Found in earphones;

Respite when your laughter

Cuts to deep.

This takes time –

Yours in the present,

Ours in the past,

Mine from your future,

Tainting memory

With comparative inadequacy;

Salting the soil

For future famine.

Published by The Gown Queen's University Belfast

The Gown has provided respected, quality and independent student journalism from Queen's University, Belfast since its 1955 foundation, by Dr. Richard Herman. Having had an illustrious line of journalists and writers for almost 70 years, that proud history is extremely important to us. The Gown is consistent in its quest to seek and develop the talents of aspiring student writers.

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