Her laughter fell around me
like rain in crystal goblets.
‘How much do you want it?’
‘Enough,’ I lied. ‘What is it to you?’
‘Nothing,’ and I knew that it was true.
She had no vested interest
but for a fleeting fascination
with the machinations of my mind.
I often asked her for the truth
in those dying days of ours
though she would only smile,
rankling my spine with her indifference.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.