I sit at the head of the table
once clouded with chatter, clutching
my bruised heart and beaten dreams
with flickering candles for company.
Their laughter haunts the hallways,
their ghosts fill vacant chairs.
Words once dripping with honey
they scratched onto my table
now a red hot branding iron on bare skin.
I stare down the long table,
sitting in silent space.
The days of old long gone,
the future’s lost on her way here
there is room but no bodies,
the sweetness of the memory
mixed with the bitter of goodbye
I look down with hands wide open.
My dreams are still breathing,
and my heart is still beating.
So this, I sigh to the ceiling,
is what the in-between tastes like.
Zoe Maher is an emerging writer fuelled by her passion for words and desire to encourage people. She is currently studying a double degree in secondary teaching and creative writing at QUT. When she’s not dreaming of the beach, Zoe can be found at her desk with 80’s music blaring and her furry feline purring next to her laptop.