It’s been too long

It’s been too long since I have had the urge to write about you.
We had rolled in glorious limbs and parted lips on your living room floor.
We had stared into each other’s eyes and I had told you how much
I loved
You
And you.
Did that thing
Were you didn’t say yes and you didn’t say no.
But
You said you loved me.
So I clung to it
But never typed it out
It’s turned to cement inside me.

I kissed the boy with the cold eyes and the black hair.
He wasn’t you.
All northern accent
But a love for word
Not for action
In this,
He’s so much like you.
These web-like chains that I thought I could burst through
Have entangled me into feeling nothing now.
Not even for you.
I can’t write anymore.
I just don’t care.
I just don’t weep
Pretending to be strong
Has made me
Rot from the inside out.
I feel wasted and left
Hopeless
and full of regret.

Swallowing marbles

After love,
Is bled dry,
And a diamond has been chipped,
Into a perfectly round marble,
It sits in a pocket of your gut.
A universe hidden inside glass walls,
A storming summer sunset hidden beneath melting ink,
It constantly rolls around the throat.
A penny in a pie,
A pointed lid forced back into its glass bottle.
I can bury it deep down,
Shove it underneath organs like packing a bag too small.
But sometimes,
And only,
Sometimes,
Your voice,
A photograph,
That song,
Urges the tiny glass circle up the elevator of my oesophagus,
Back up to the top of my tongue.
A pinball machine spitting out all I’ve buried.
All that was left to rot in an open box,
Now fermented.
Sour taste on un-wanting buds,
The most terrible sharp candy,
Oozing slowly through the lines of my teeth.
A taste that doesn’t leave for days,
Reminding me that like a child,
You never said yes,
You never said no,
You kept me locked to your heart,
A soul miserably stuck to a soul.

Chasms of time

It’s been chasms of time,
Three pints in that I can’t afford,
Then a double gin.
And I.
See that video of your face,
Black and white,
Staring through a square window.
Those soft eyes that gleam through all,
And then I do recall.
You.
And me.
And how you make me feel.
And that I miss you.
Just as soil misses water,
And turns,
Into lifeless crust.

Second Rate

Why am I always the second rate fucker?
Shitting pencil shavings and urging myself to keep living.
Why can’t anyone just want me?
I just want to be fucking held tightly,
Touched by warm hands,
Skin on Skin,
To have someone just fucking there for me, for once.
But,
It’s too late,
I look like a hairless spaniel,
All flabby cheeks and sunken eyes,
I smack of loneliness,
A terrible stench of pain and suffering,
Broken bones,
Damaged goods,
The browning banana.
My chest just constantly feels hollow.
I can’t even weep for myself anymore.
I can’t.

Water colour

I keep having water-coloured dreams.
They spangle with your face and his face,
I do not know who I’m holding
Where I’m holding
Why I’m holding.

But it all still turns,
It all feels great,
Circulating in warmth,
Honey dripping from a brush.

Heat and light dash across us in limbs and loves.
All I want is it to stay.
Against my sheets,
At one with my brown skin,
This joyous feeling of another human with you.
Its all I have now,
As I am deprived from all love.

Birthday

I turned 26 yesterday.
You phoned me to tell me I was getting old.
I laughed,
Stretching legs out in the hot bath.
Listening to your soft growl,
Wondering, if and how,
I will ever see you again.

It would have been the most glorious present.
To see you at my door, tired, spent,
But smiling and eyes like the rapture.
I’d have you all to myself till the day after,
When I’d have to give you back.
Birthday gone,
Now back to the old hack,
Of you and her,
and me.
On the edge of your circle,
Limping like a wounded tigress.
Watching and yelping , nothing less,
To do, but scream,
For you.
Happy Birth
Happy Day,
Remember I’m not yours,
I just can’t say.

Swing

We spoke on the phone for half an hour
You sounded sleepy and delicious.
I sipped from my beer bottle,
Kicking the peat underneath,
The hovering swing seat.

It’s so tough,
We talk of her like a woman in the way,
And you say, I miss you,
But we still have our island,
It’s still there.
Just out of reach,
And my drunken heart weeps.

It’s so depressing that the best part of my week,
Has been this call,
You could only make it,
Because you’re alone.
You don’t make it easy.
Everyday I have hated you,
Except today,
When I fell in love with you all over again,
Dust, tears and peat on my naive feet.

Existence

I’m scared of the curtain folding back and never seeing you again.
This distance between cities and times is fine.
That thin thread can be cut with diligent scissors.
But a thick comb of wool,
An unbreakable chain,
Is the most terrifying.

A loose spirit,
Between worlds, eras and dreams.
The silent shadow on your shoulder,
Unfeeling of warmth,
Un-hearing of words.
Dreaming of you,
High.

I have been so fortunate to know you,
To recognise your face and for you to call me ‘friend’.
Blessed to be here,
On this pane of existence,
With you,
It would be greedy of me,
To expect to have all of you as well.

Mr. Norton

And I miss you
I miss you so much,
All ratpack,
Strangers in the Night,
That’s Amore,
And when the moon hits your eye,
Over the blue ridge mountains of Virginia.
I miss your laugh,
The placing of that giant WW2 ring in my hand,
The dancing and the singing.
Ray Harryahusen and monsters in black and white.
Reciting curses and poetry,
Touching golden lions
Old Prescot clocks,
Mexicans in hats,
Calligraphy in wonderous black ink
I feel like you gave me so much
And now you have gone
I can’t do nothing but weep.

Headless

It’s all running around
Headless chicken.
No beak.
No break.
No any idea of the future.
I just want to dream.
So it all goes away.
Easy.
Shutting damp eyelashes.
But now I will really sit down and try.
T-r-y.
The words, the wonder,
The click of plastic nails on plastic buttons.
Could it lead me away?
Take me further.
Take me closer.
Don’t let me rot here,
Covered in dust,
With no head and a prune heart.