I’ve washed my hands of you
burned your traces
from my skin with
surgical precision.
I’ve kept my distance
battened down the hatches
and battered on
you won’t latch on to me.
You won’t survive
without me there,
you’ll suffocate
on your own thin air.
I’ve drowned you in alcohol
and medicines
your curves won’t flatten me
or my undiplomatic immunity.
I’ve cut myself
off from all your noise,
you will stay at home
and die, alone.
………..
Eddie is a writer from Ballygawley, Co. Tyrone.