Homeless Under blue orange neon our faces gaudy Shadows hold your mood in sharp dark lines. We could kiss here, reckless. Your features would soften to threaten gentleness where your lips only exist as shadow. We're here hidden in shadows from a world of gaudy city centres by the dark and it's gentleness that covers up the lines of ageing and softens what once was reckless. I say it's not reckless to hug your own shadow. In your own hands your shape will soften. Away from the gaudy spotlight, statistics and headlines you will head towards gentleness without my gentleness. I will become a shadow, a dancing black outline, silent and reckless, darting between pools of gaudy yellow and watching them soften to the blue of cities at night. Soften again to gentleness not brash and gaudy as a daylight kiss, but a shadow confidential and reckless like not yet drawn lines, not yet written lines. Me, I must vanish and soften, a fairy Godmother, reckless, brushing with gentleness. Watching you cast a shadow as you stride away from the gaudy to threaten gentleness. You soften now, the reckless, lines that shadow your face, no longer gaudy. Redefinition 1. The ghost of a man's arm around my waist is more than real, The span of his hand, spider web safe, like home. Pins and needles climb my spine. I'm not numb any longer. Our conversation is ordinary, carefully chosen, words trip from ambiguous lips The crossword clue, "kiss" (8). I blush and giggle, tell tale signs... I think. Drinking in his scent, that morning I kept my breathing regular. Thrilled. 2. Last time I felt like that it was over a woman. Look but don't touch. I stared so hard I was giddy and sick. Next came solitude. Neutrality. Armed and dangerous. She returned in a dream. We were guests at a wedding no bride, no groom. She hung pipistrelle-like from the ceiling, drank champagne without spilling a drop. She took a walk, no one seemed to notice. I watched for foot prints of glue. Not a trace. * We put the past behind us Bio from 2019: Rachel Cunniffe is based in the North East of England and has written a wide range of poetry since being a teenager, has an MA in Writing Studies gained in 1995 from Edgehill University College. Real jobs stifled her creativity for 16 years and she has recently been able to partially retire and spend more time writing again. She has been a member of several creative writing groups one of which has been in existence since 1991. She read regularly at the now sadly no more Callender Poetry Festival in September during that time for about 9 years. She lives with a large black dog and two cats.