I have always loved you.

I imagine us 30 years down the road.
I am massaging your shoulders,
relieving knots.
Life gets me in knots too.

I've put the kettle on
I have my own key now so I come and go as I please
like the old friend I've become.
I feed your cat when you go away at weekends.

Smelling your pillow
Remembering you at 40.
Your dressing table
as I pictured it.

I have my own family now
but I met you 10 years before I met my wife.
I rode the wave of your smile,
came crashing down
the day you announced you'd met someone,
holding out for the real thing.

For; I was just a boy,
what could I deliver apart from newspapers
and the odd dodgy innuendos? you laughed at
tossing your hair.
Humouring me
but,
Never letting on that you cared.

I slip away every second night
when the second hand rests between the 8 and the 9
and it is quarter to 10.
I am on my way to see you.
We play cards and toast a drink into midnight.
Sometimes I reach for your delicately aged hand
twiddling with your rings,
knowing mine would have been the sparkly one.
But not a patch on you.

We lock eyes for around a minute,
My throat is dry.
Telepathically I tell you
I have always loved you.
Whether you are 45 or 75
I will always love you.

Recorded words of times ago,
Recorded words that hurt,
I remember when we fell in love,
When it wasn’t just a flirt.

I remember every day,
Every word you said,
I remember every photo,
Especially that one in bed.

I don’t want to go back,
Nothing good comes from the past,
But if I had one wish,
It’d be that it wasn’t the past.

If I had three wishes,
I would wish for three things,
Your health,
Your heart,
Our life.

I fantasize about filling all my vein and arteries and my heart with a fine cement, letting it dry and removing the body.

I cry now days.
I don't hold it back.
Anything that jerks my tears,
Successfully pull at least one.

Today I was scrolling,
My contact list, my connections.
I saw her name.
Her picture.
Her number.

I see it every day, almost.
I've never cried like this.

If I was to
awake to more
than just a
foggy,hungover,
shadow of a memory
of that girl I know
was here the night
before.
Would I feel less
alone throughout the day?
If there was to be more
than just the water stained
ceiling and the
yellow, faded,
dust dressed lamp
shade to rest
my eyes upon
as the night time
drug laced,hungover
haze falls
from my view.
Would my days
appear brighter?

I always sense
the slightest smell
of her cigarettes and
the taste of stale  *****
in the mornings after .
How I secretly
long for
her pouty lips
that always
seem to carry
that bitter ***** Martini
taste.

All that is left
of her until
the next late
night hour,
unannounced drunken
visit,
is the lip
stick stained cigarette
butts in the abalone
shell.
The indentation
left by her hips and her
shoulder in the down.
And the slightest scent
of her cheap perfume
that always sticks around
for days after
shes gone.

These shadows left
behind by her
curves
and her wit
constantly
reminding me of
how empty this
place truly
is without her presence .

We both apparently
agree
that  its
better this way,
cheap and discreet,
never promised and
always unannounced.
I secretly and simply
go along with
her suggestion.

This soul survives
on hope
alone.
Chained up and
burning.
tear stained and
laughing.

Shut out this version
of living and
blackout the time.
Artificial lighting
brightens nothing.

This unemotional winter
remains as unforgiving
as a vengeful heart.

I'm in the
midst of Dantes
version.
Chattering teeth,
blue black numbing
digits.

Curl into the corner
and pour it all
out in words.
Yesterdays thoughts
documented for a
better day.

Mutilated as
Van Gogh,
troubled as the
artist.
I'm aggressive with
this,
I have no other
choice but to
remain honest.

Accepted
the association
with failure.
Long to be
remembered
for this.

People wonder why I forgive.
I wonder why they don't.
Mistakes are taken.
They happen.
It is a duty,
A necessity to forgive.
To apologize for others,
When they won't for herself.

My dad asks me why I let myself get used,
I tell him
We use amazing things every day and smile.
He doesn't get it.

Every plus has a minus.

i got the feeling
i was losing control
felt like i drank
too much wine
or had too much caffeine
in my bloodstream

the walls felt like
they were crashing
down all around me
there was too much air
but i couldn't breathe

you were like
a panic attack
coming on

i hated
every
minute
of it.