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A Thomas Hawkins Sep 2015
Days are never longer,
                                        nor more empty,
                                                          ­            than when you're not in them.
                                                                                                                              .
                                                                                                                                .
                                                                                                                                .
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2015
When life has taught you,
through experience,
that two unrelated things going wrong at the same time,
will beyond a shadow of a doubt,
**** everything up that really matters.
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2015
Every time it goes to **** a little piece of me dies with it.
Hearts break sure, but they also mend over time.
What stays broken, what breaks more than it recovers every time though,
is hope
the belief in happiness
the belief in trust
the belief that if you put your everything into something
into someone
that it will all work out in the end
that knowing you would do anything would somehow mean they would too
that they forgive as you would
that they would work at it as you would
that they are somehow as committed as you are
all these things die a little each time, and never come all the way back
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2015
And as I realise things have changed
I see you in places new, places I've never seen you before
In corners usually reserved for cobwebs and being ignored
In the song of the wind trough the leaves as it builds
In the rain and distant thunder that meanders across the blackened sky
In the shadows cast by candles burned too late into the night
All these places you are
All the places you shouldn't be and none of the ones you should
In the air that I breathe, your scent on my pillow, on my skin
In my arms, where once you felt so safe, so certain
Next to me

And I miss you.

And I find myself contemplating the unthinkable,
wondering if painful memories of someone are better than no memories of them at all

And the truth becomes unbearable...
A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2015
Last kiss
Last first date
Last courtship
Last taste on your lips
Last thing you breathe in at night
Last person you fall asleep next to
Last dreams, shared
Last mistake
Last fight
Last person you gave a chance to
Last person you forgave
Last secrets
Last tears
Last pain
Last leap of faith
Last love
Last, forever
A Thomas Hawkins Jun 2015
It's 7am again
but today I'm awake already
smiling even.
That's pretty unusual.
You see I'm not a morning person.
Never have been,
but I'm awake and smiling at 7am because you're here.
Because I'm a you person
If I didn't write it down you might never know.
You see very shortly I'm going to go back to sleep
going pull myself back in behind you
place my arm around you
breathe you in, deeply, and slip gently back to sleep.
The warmth of your body is all the blanket I need
your scent the trigger of a thousand dreams
And if history is anything to go by,
in a little while,
an hour,
maybe two,
your eyes will blink themselves open,
you'll stir a little,
feel my arm around you
my chest against your back
my legs among yours
and you'll smile,
pull me a little closer
then drift back to sleep.
Because just as being with you turns the night owl into a morning person,
the morning person in you, sleeps in a little longer than usual, savors the contact, the intimacy, the moment
because you're a me person now
it's who we've become
it's who we were meant to be
A Thomas Hawkins May 2015
Sometimes
                                                    a
 ­                                                spark
                                         ignites         a
                                       flame,
                                       other times
                                                        it
­                                                    simply
      ­                                sputters  out
                   ­                leaving
                                behind   nothing
                              but                        ­a
                                wisp of smoke
                                  and a hint
                                    of
                     ­                sulphur,
                                       the only
                                        evidence
           ­                           we even
                                      tried.
               ­                            ...
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