Looking for a piece of paper, there it was
I wanted to write my number for a friend
and there in plain sight after three years,
I saw the third thing you wrote to me

A birthday card was first, well-chosen, heartfelt
“books” on a bag with the book you bought me
and then this note, after all the stress I bore
thrown into my drawer, unseen, your abdication
of responsibility, authentic liar you that you are

Published in The Lark

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

3 replies on “Note”

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