Magnolia walls house the non-absorbent thrones.
Dry voices whisper round the walls like leaves that fall unnoticed.
Uniformed bursts of energy swirl according to the clock
Bringing this, taking that.
Weathered skin, brittle bones, ghosts of the past
Gather on these barren shores.
My life, my love, has passed away, leaving me hung upon the thorns
of grief in a waste of loneliness.
Unspoken. Living too long in the shadow of social shame
I dare not rock the boat and she is buried forever.
“My love” I cry in the dark hours and hold her in my heart.
By day I pass as an ordinary old woman.
Have you been affected by these issues?
If you have been affected by any of the issues described in this blog, or simply need someone to reach out to, you can contact Switchboard, the LGBT+ helpline on 0300 330 0630 10am-10pm every day, or by email at email@example.com
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of Independent Age.