Are you shouting my excuses from the rooftops?
Are you hoping that I’m finally free?
I chase my past, and this race never stops.
You’re the last face I see before I go to sleep.
Do you imagine my eyes like they used to be?
Are they wiser and even more hypnotic?
My fingers disturb the surface of jealousy,
And we mix under the moon like gin and tonic.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 