Atonement – Amy

I am the butterfly

butting my soft head

into the cold glass,

freedom visible

but out of reach.

All my faults have been boxed up

and presented to me.

Complete with a fucking bow.


Sometimes I want to scream. Then

I remember

I don’t want to cause a scene.

I dream

of being alone,

wake up alone

and then realise I’m still dreaming.

I bite the pillow, tears chilling

the crescent of my lips.

What’s worse –

coasting, or being tripped up by sorrow

when you’re finally living?


I feel like I’ve swapped lives

with someone

who likes candlelit dinners

and casual love.

I could say

you don’t tickle me right –

I laugh

but there is a red light

in my eyes.

Amy Austen

As a travel writer, reviewer and content writer, writing has taken her around the world, around the palate, and around the mind.

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