Rusted Lines by Jonathan Butcher

Back when we would lay upon that
railway embankment, those evenings
the bulk of our days. Those jagged rocks
that would embrace us and prevent any
drunken fall, no matter how hard we
staggered.

Our heads heavy under the pipes, cans
and marker fumes; our bones grinding
against our innocence as they grew.
Our voices now slightly harsher but still
as sharp as ever, but never puncturing
our meaning.

As the sun set we sheltered under
that towering bridge, its walls now forever
stained with our presence like a gallery
of gleeful stubbornness, we attempted
cleanliness later, but two decades on
our fingers still remain stained.

Jonathan Butcher
Jonathan Butcher is a poet based in Sheffield, England and has been writing poetry for around ten years. He has had work appear in various print and online publications, most recently at Odd Ball Magazine, Mad Swirl, Dead Snakes, Your One Phone Call and The Transnational. His second chapbook ‘Broken Slates’ has been published by Flutter Press.
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