[92 words]
I’ve boxed myself in
a bunker of glass-thin concrete,
deflecting fallout from others
as feelings break from chains
like ionising rays
rewriting me cell by cell.
Family gatherings, nights out,
Christmas after Christmas
alone in a crowded room,
life reduced to beads
on an abacus of days.
If I could step outside, just for a moment,
feel that tremor in the chest,
the swell of love
bursting the seams of a jacket,
popping like a balloon in a child’s fist.
I’m tired of scratching peepholes
through this concrete till my fingers bleed.
Robbie Barlow is an optimist in training and was born in Manchester, UK. He writes confessional poetry and philosophical fiction. He holds a BA in Creative Writing and a PGCE in English from The University of Bolton. He is finishing his Creative Writing MA at the University of Manchester and working on a novel, a series of short stories, and a poetry collection. His work can be found in The Bolton Review, Canary Collective, and has been shortlisted for South Yorkshire’s Hive Young Writer’s Award (Poetry, 2022 and 2025).
