I remember our first meeting.
She wore a seatbelt in a hackney. She said some things could never be spoken of and proceeded to discuss them at length.
I never knew was it to entice me or shock the driver.
I'm guessing a little of both as he seemed deflated when we reached our destination.
She talked of her ventures on the internet.
She called it ebay for people.
It's more like "click and collect" for Argos.
Buying unseen and hopeful it's not broken or not what you wanted when you get it home.
Moments later she passed out.
I carried her upstairs and out her to bed. Covered her as she talked in her sleep.
I'm guessing he wasn't from Argos.
But he was indeed broken.
I placed a glass of water next ti her bed.
Closed the door.
We never spoke again.
And sometimes later becomes never
In dreams he's lived from the day, she died.
He never wanted to feel again. He didn't have the capacity.
I'll defined future.
Nothing inside now.
She lit up a room.
Like an arsonist!
She could get excited opening a tin of beans.
Now he craves beans on toast and finding half of it is liquid.
She coukd never be a woman that only ate lettuce.
And now all he sees is salad in people
Wrapped in cellophane I felt today as
I washed she sheets a month on her scent now gone.
Place the heart you had in youth within your hands and watch it beat.
For then it beat with passion and rage and skipped those beats when you were dazed.
Then hold the heart you have of now, the one you feel trying to burst.
As age and worries push its bounds in a world where we feel we may just drown.
With all its worries and all the fears we carry for ourselves and our loved ones dear.
Then take the heart of an older you, its beats slower now its journey through.
A heart that beat through love and loss and fear and joy till now...
Die with memories, not, just dreams and regret.
Her parting words as she walked away.
She never actually said a word.
Yet her voice echoed inside his head.
Not a scream or moan
You wouldn't know she was there
as they tossed and writhed in the bed
He moaned a lot he always did seeking encouragement for his carnal bids
But she was really somewhere else and kept her noises to herself
He often asked how was it for you?
I Mark exams not whoopdie doo.
It's not that she didn't have a voice to air mid coitus like a squalking bird.
More a sense of deep control letting no one see her all.
There is a box.
It holds all the thoughts, the dreams, the pleasures our passions, loves and more.
And yet, a box closed.
For in that box are our fears, our need, our failings, loses and regrets.
I know why the box is closed.
As Pandora knew.
For if opened all are freed.
Not just what we want others to see.
So we all have a box.
We speak of its contents.
Often omitting items.
Sometines speaking of things in others boxes, wishing they were in ours.
We all have little boxes.