Wednesday, 27 September 2017

Japanese keyboard

If we scroll back far enough,
Can we be OK again?

Back among the lovehearts and lips. 
💋💗💋💗💋💗💋💗💋💗💋💗

Your voice before we met
Your voice inside my head

Emotions
Emoticons

But now you’re gone.
💀💀💀






_________________________

Thursday, 29 December 2016

Box set


I haven't watched a film for six months.

I keep saving up things for us to watch

But I can't face them alone

I can't face outside alone

Our private jokes without a home.

You'll never know

if Glenn dies under the dumpster

(he didn't, but...)

You'll never get to see crappy season 7

to find out if Negan is scary.

Well, spoiler alert, he's not.

You never got to finish your book.

Just kidding, you never read a book

You could barely finish a magazine in the loo

Without soaking it through

with the shower head and the curtain

not pulled over quite right.

I miss your soggy magazines

Complaining about overuse of shower gel

Complaining about things I would kill or die to have again

It felt like nothing at the time

But it was a life.

It was right.

Now I'm soaking everything through

And not in a good way.

And our cat on the landing gone, too

And my heart: dead, like the pair of you

Now all that's left is cat hair, crumbs and

Silence

I'm still waiting for the next bit to start.

When’s it gonna start?




_____

Thursday, 15 September 2016

Obsolete

What’s worse than knowing I’m dying?
Knowing the dog will outlive me.
 
I can’t even walk him today
But in a month’s time
or a year’s time
you and he will go walkies and play
you’ll call to him,
call out his name
and I’ll still be dead.
 
The dog will sleep in your bed
Alive
The dog will lie in your arms
Alive
 
But at least I know the dog.
 
One day,
even that dog will be dead;
the dog that outlived me.
 
He’ll be buried in the garden
and you’ll be alive
still
breathing and laughing
with someone I’ve never even met.
 
 
__________
 

Saturday, 21 May 2016

Next door

I will remember you
The way you collected things
like I collect things
The cards and the memories
The religious keepsakes
Except you believed.

I’d always buy you angels.
A month ago, I found one I forgot to send at Christmas.
Next Christmas, I’d thought.

Every Easter,
Looking for a card with meaning
As I knew it meant something to you
And you meant something to me.

Do you remember all the times you helped me move house?
Carrying lampshades and cushions
With your packed lunch
and your Special Brew
You’d always ask for a posh glass.

Lost again with mum on the way home.
Another tale to tell.

Before that, were summers stretched out like decades
Crisps in the cupboard in your dining room
Cutting the grass in your garden
Your son was a brother to my brothers.

I remember you in bright purple
your clip on earrings
with glasses before your surgery.
That was classic Margaret.

I remember your sense of humour
How fucking blunt you were.
You knew your own mind
You were strong and kind
With no time for self-pity.

Your husband was killed the year I was born.
He has been dead as long as I’ve been alive.
I must have reminded you.

Did you know that you took us in on the worst day of my life?
You were there for me
For us
For my whole family.
You never cared who was right or wrong
You never took a side
You were the last person on earth
We all liked.

I’ll drive your car, now mine, to your funeral.

Still with the Virgin Mary on the dashboard
Still with St Christopher tied to the lighter.

And me
who has never believed in anything
I hope you got there.



__________________



Sunday, 15 February 2015

Now

I remember you
against the pink of my bed
your eyes followed me
like the opposite 
of a sniper

no one had ever looked 
at me like that before

you were as pure as paper
but I was cynical
even then, with you eating me up 
with your eyes
I knew:

that the chemical of
lust and love
can change and become
a questioning of

‘why did you put you hand on his leg?’
or
‘your friend is coming between us.’



________________________

Wednesday, 19 November 2014

A written rap battle

You took my skeleton hand
down streets
where red and pink lights
had twinkled days before

Now naked buildings
shivered in the cold
but my hand was warm in
your gloved embrace.

Back in your room
you told me a story
of colours like ice,
nazi dictators
and a place where everyone could
read each other’s thoughts.

Then you looked at me,
and I knew.

You promised me tiles to build
a safe place to hide.
You showed me another way,
A way to be free like you.

Later,
In my dreams
we were covered in snow
Tiles painted with ravens
cracked like mirrors.

But when I woke
you were laughing

Everything around you
was pink
and orange

and I was yours.




______________________

Monday, 3 February 2014

Lunch

Before…
his pupils were massive
as he knelt between
my legs,
As we said
‘no we shouldn’t’
but of course, we did.

Afterwards,
he looked like
he’d just been told
someone had died.
He looked like a victim.

Or was that me?