Gavin Austin

Night Shadows

In a tired part of the city, you can find me, hiding from all the fast talk. Standing, staring, watching the signs change from walk to don’t walk. See me gazing blankly at a movie, or standing in a circle, watching the drinks disappear. Laughing at all the right times, making all the right moves. Nervously smiling, I fidget and fight my fear.

I see you most days. That is you over there, drowning in the shadows of the mirror where lost dreams gather. I am feeling hunted, stalked by a fear of loneliness. I watch your pretty face as you turn away with that packed suitcase.

In the end will it matter. Will a bottle of whisky be my lover instead. Should I smash my brain blotting out your memory. And will I kiss and cry and wake to find a sordid stranger in my bed. The world will look on and shake its sensible head.

I wonder if those words will come from you. Words I dread. Or words I am longing to hear.

I could learn to believe again. Don’t look at me like that, I never said a word. Don’t ask me how I am, I’ll pretend I never heard.

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About The Author

Gavin Austin lives in Sydney, Australia. He writes short fiction, short plays, and poetry. His work has appeared in many Australian and international publications.

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