When
the 280 Bus
our favourite TV programme
about half my music collection
Fiat Puntos
a certain Italian restaurant
empty train stations
your name in my phonebook
driving on country roads
my guitars
the names of the books you read
Kendal mint cake
green hooded tops
my bike
the trinkets you gave me
the local pub
battered Mars bars
my single bed
holiday photographs
and small children
no longer have the power to hurt me,
then I’ll know I’m over you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very powerful poem of loss and longing! Clever and sad. Well done.