Duality

You exist in every
photograph, on every wall;
whilst you are always here,
you are not at all -

so as my writing slowly becomes a cure
again, I must cure my writing,

but when all of this
sickening allegory

is a nod to non-existence

it means my
hand hungers for a touch

again

it is the

jasmine,
heather,
lavender,

trapped in yellowed
pages, pressed dry;

every time I flick through
the pages, I expect them
to have died.