In The Broken Places by Steven Storrie

Dancing stars with
Mud caked feet
And memories all their own
Lights hit their beams
Cameras breaking on her fragile frame
And nobody waits at home.

She’s in the place she loves most
When the air is upside down
And the faces all look the same
A tumbling of secrets fall from her eyes
As strangers cast callous judgement
In freezing cold rooms
On the darkest of winter nights

I wish that I could know her
Shield her
Kiss her soft lips
As she goes to speak my name

But wasting away in this arm chair
As the screen flickers spitefully away
I realise this could never be
The ride is almost over
I have insufficient balance and
She is far too delicate
For hands like these
To hold.

Steven Storrie 3
Steven Storrie has worked as a cable T.V repair man, dishwasher, choreographer, ice cream vendor and junk yard attendant. Tired of this he is currently locked in his basement working on his first full collection of poetry, bickering with his neighbours over nothing and storing the baseballs he keeps when they are hit into his yard. His first collection of short stories, We Are Not The Kids We Used To Be, will be released in November by DevilHouse Press. You can find him at the website he runs, ‘Black Coffee For Breakfast’, at

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s