This     gap
between out lips as the kisses become longer
that     vital
intake of air to keep the love/boredom/sympathy/pity
alive    until
this is snuffed out in the hope of something tangible

THE TIME WE SPENT WAS BORROWED ON BAD CREDIT.

1. We both knew this
2. I didn't care
3. You saw this ending
4. An end that wasn't even fair

so now i'm not speaking and yet you still fight

cause you know that means i would win,
i would be right.

i haven't seen you stay in one place for more than a few days,
like laying some roots will result in some catastrophic meltdown
like being noticed will cause sirens to scream out
"i want to be wanted, i want to be wanted, i want to be wanted".

isnt this the point, to pop up shop and take what little charity those
who know what being loveless is like can provide. in short bursts a heart can be mended, the wounds sewn up and put up for sale like a clean bill of emotional health.

till the view begins to stagnate and the bones of all the half-healed ex-lovers begin to ache inside, the embers of a burnt out husk in the chest smoulders with the promise of "it'll be better elsewhere."

"they might want me elsewhere." "someone will love you elsewhere."

time can lighten the crushing loss of another.

Two lovers standing
parallel on a street
late in Shorditch
graffiti came billowing
out from their ankles
spray painting their distance
in moments
like a gap in a kiss
could paint murals.