Contributor: Paul Tristram

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The guilt wrapped city of regret
is where I now hide and reside.
With all of the other people
with the pain and shame inside.
The translucent fear is everywhere
read a dark secret in each eye.
All waddling through the worry
strangling rumours until they die.
We toast the ghosts of lovers
alive but with us now no more.
We utter aloud different names
as we paralytically hit the floor.
Someone smiled aloud yesterday
we stoned them in the square.
In the guilt wrapped city of regret
blame’s the only thing we share.
The gates they open frequently
letting the new damned fools in.
We attack them before nightfall
safer to get the first boot in.
I am the oldest of the crowd
I have been here since the first.
Since the first time I kissed her
she who makes all innocence cursed.


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Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.