I have friends who sing, friends who dance.
Some are gay and some are not.
Some share opinions, others won't.
Some made mistakes and others  they don't.
Some aren't white some are aren't.
Some are political, some are not.
Some like cats others dogs.
Some are spiritual, some not.
Some are tactile and others arms length.
Some share every detail when they vent.
Some say little but are always there.
Some get offended and others don't care.
Some scream foul, others referee!
But I love there differences, how do they see me?

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 got it home.
Moments later she passed out.
I carried her upstairs and put 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 to her bed.
Closed the door.
Walked home.
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 could 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 the 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...
It stops.

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.