Editorial Editorial Editorial Editorial Editorial
Editorial Editorial Editorial Editorial Editorial
you are not
your roles
you are not
the items on your to-do list
you are not
a username;
you are not
what the rest of the world
turns you into
you are
the steady beat of your favourite song
you are
the pages of your cookbook worn down from use and stuck together with love
you are
the insistent scratch of a pencil filling your notebook page by page
you are
the dog ear folds in the corners of all your favourite novels
you are
the blended and beautiful mess of paints splayed across your canvas
you are
the gold in the first seconds of sunrise
and the glow of the full moon’s light
you are
the first breath of a meditation
and the last thought before you close your eyes
you are
the familiar twists in the roads you drive at night
and the worn route that leads you back home
you are
so many
little things.
— Darragh Clayton
Home Without Heart
08
Do you remember when we were lying in my bed that Sunday morning and we were comparing the size of our hands with each other
You told me that you wished you had a home like mine
I told you I could be a home for you
You laughed
Then held my hand against your chest and told me not to make promises I couldn’t keep
I was serious then
The moment I shared my favourite song with you I knew
I hoped you would want me just as much as I wanted you
So, for a while, things felt nice and I thought I was bettering myself by finding my happiness in you
But I should have paid more attention
Between waking up next to you, and your hand in mine,
It wasn’t actually me you were telling to not make promises that couldn’t be kept
You told me you wanted to believe we could have mornings, afternoons and nights together forever
Except, I wasn’t the right person you could see yourself waking up to anymore
So now I’m here in this bed, on a Sunday night a month later
With four missed calls from you
Because you’re drunk again and telling me that you promise you’ve made a mistake
And you want me to share my new favourite song with you
But I tell you I don’t believe in promises nowadays from anyone
And that I haven’t had another favourite song ever since
— Carey Sichareune