Sunsets

Written by Carol J Forrester

Here,
the city tinges the evening
and pumps the colours brighter,
like carbon monoxide fruit,
laid out in brand new kitchens
on the pages of a magazine,
well thumbed in dentist waiting rooms.

When you asked me if I liked it,
I pretended to smile
and told you it was beautiful.

I did not mention it was different
to the ones back at home,
where gritty haze doesn’t hang
morning, eve, and night,
and the hum of silence
echoes differently in the darkness.

I pretended that here
I was happy,
and that other place
did not matter,
and I think for a moment
you believed the words,
despite the wet on my cheeks
and your hand loose in mine.

Photographer Unknown