I stand at the edge of another Monday,
boots crusted with dust from a paddock
I never meant to cross.
The sky doesn’t speak—it broods,
like it’s waiting for me to say
the thing I’ve swallowed for years.
There’s a fog settling across the plain.
Not the cool kind that comforts the gullies,
but the one that creeps in just before
......
The river speaks in hushed tones,
its currents thick with secrets,
folding into themselves—
the weight of unspoken histories
dredged along the silt.
I do not step in.
The water remembers too much.
The city breathes metal and wire,
a maze built on absence,
......
I stand at the edge of another Monday,
boots crusted with dust from a paddock
I never meant to cross.
The sky doesn’t speak—it broods,
like it’s waiting for me to say
the thing I’ve swallowed for years.
There’s a fog settling across the plain.
Not the cool kind that comforts the gullies,
but the one that creeps in just before
......
The river speaks in hushed tones,
its currents thick with secrets,
folding into themselves—
the weight of unspoken histories
dredged along the silt.
I do not step in.
The water remembers too much.
The city breathes metal and wire,
a maze built on absence,
......