We’ve been here before, I swear.
You used to be hanging off there but still balanced
and you were always stalking me where ever I was
Then you would still be talking non-stop until you did stop and that was rare
And how could I forget you? Always sitting in the corner but for no apparent reason, until you would tell me why
But how come you have left your post you used to be in my face the whole time I’ve wondered here. Where have you gone?
                         I missed you all,
                           please come again…

Tobacco spilt on the floor
Your hair singed from lighting one last night
You creep over me
Your hot breath sits on my collarbone as if to say
“stay longer” or “one more time” and I reply with a kiss on your neck to say
“sure why not”
with a cigarette in my mouth
and scourging for a lighter shifting drugs from the coffee table and empty wine bottles underneath clinking
when I shove them aside with my foot.

“Where is it?” I say

You point to the top of the dresser and I see more beer bottles left behind by their owners and a lighter among them.
upon lighting my cigarette I go to the kitchen and prepare coffee for the both of us
“I love you”
“Are you sure?” I say
“yeah, I’m sure”
when I finish making coffee I crawl back to bed with you
kissing your forehead and say
                     “Thank you”

I felt death staring at me
Their eyes outlining my figure
Not saying a word
Nor breathing down my neck but lingering in the sense of forewarning.
not there as a reminder of the end but more so as a reminder to say to myself that we had a
“deal with me” to bet on our souls and
Who would win?
Me or them?

They make very compelling arguments  
Which dug into my skin as tally marks
Counting all the way up to
Them.
But I, on the other hand, also make very sturdy and snide remarks towards them and try to show who is in control.
Which won’t be me any longer.

This is not a goodbye note but more so of a welcome one.
So.
Welcome back.

Your rosy lips, makes that precious smile of yours.

Your hair falls in place when you move it from your lips

Your scent of summer azaleas and autumn honeysuckle that lingers when you walk by.

Your eyes hide a secret. But God forbid that anyone knows it.

How you left me weak when you spoke is a mystery.

Such intelligence you have a hidden is unspoken for, but please, don’t stop.

I want to hear more.

You do not miss me

You miss the memories that we’ve created and crave more

You do not miss me

You will miss the way I talked with you and conversed many ideas with you too

You do not miss me

You missed the presence of me being there

You will never miss me

Because you will only live on the memories you’ve had of me

You will never miss me

You should never miss me

The lingering smell of smoked tobacco and pub drinks stained his worn down leather jacket.
It’s soaked in your nose and seeped to your tongue. You can just taste the paper being burnt.
The silky stickiness of your leather jacket crinkled like soft leaves underneath my feet in autumn.
With the warm interior of your jacket, holds many memories of loving hugs.
I’ve missed our good night kisses and bedtime stories.
And those innocent questions of what happened next
As I laid in bed, my mind wondered many thoughts of how it ended.
Hearing your roars of laughter filled the rooms with much love that was to be shared.
seeing you stand outside with your cigarette in hand, shifting it to your mouth and back.
Whilst you’re looking beyond the overgrown hedges past the worn down houses and over the field of streets. Is an answer.
Your answer
To your question that has remained unsolved to this day.

Tedious - too long, slow or dull; tiresome or monotonous.

You could see from his last night’s  quarrel,
Around the room of his eyes were red and puffy.
His speech is the expert in telling omitted truths.
His teeth rotted with prolonged exposure to light and white lies.
his eyes were mixed with anger and confused sadness
no doubt about it
he certainly wasn’t patient with the answer that we gave him
he was too greedy
he never got past breakfast with him being full of **** last night
he wasn’t a time bomb -
he was the aftermath of the explosion.
No actions were thought through
Except to have one goal; one ambition
to have control
Control and the greedy need of “affection“ that wasn’t attended.
Albeit, he was falling apart
But what can I do
I am the child and he is the adult
But perhaps just because he’s an adult he would learn and know better.
And I hope he does.
But I won’t wait for him to sort his **** out
I’ll happily make my way down to my own street.
Where I can finally think in peace.