she was green eyes
and smooth thighs
his palms were rough
and his hair stood up

at the back, when i left
and went to my bed
from his
or hers
to mine
again

his and hers
hers and his
(no,
i'm not buying matching towels)

fluidity and focus
come side by side
in a darkened room and a heightened time

i like her kisses
and her hands
i like the truth in his eyes when he's sad

i'll be with her
or him or them

and i'll be with one or none or ten

I thought I knew what missing someone was
an ache
in the deepest pit of your stomach
that hits you like a truck - trucks hit you all at once
I was mistaken.

I thought I knew what missing someone was
And so
I sat listening to these songs and
That jumper I picked out today - it didn't fit perfect but it
brought me comfort.

I thought I knew what missing someone was
It's crept
All up and upon me so slowly, so
stealthy and disguised, our everyday things - they each piled inside of me
one by one.

I thought I knew what missing someone was
And until
I met you, it wasn't all bad
But I am wrapped in us - our clothes. our pictures and songs.
I miss you.

I miss you
I see now
That before you
I'd never missed
any one person
Not a little -
Not a once -
Not an ever -
Not at all.

I can only hope you don't miss me
Because the thought of you feeling this
Is so much worse
Than to not be thought of at all

I'd almost forgotten the smell of your perfume
Though it makes sense
That even the most faded of memories
Must have a curfew

On a polished oak desk
Wrapped in a thin dust-jacket
Lies an unused pen,
A blank sheet of paper,
And an empty pack of cigarettes.

I used to think that if these things could breathe, they would be loneliness personified.

But that's wrong.
If they lived, they wouldn't be lonely at all.

Golden words make
For a golden painted life

A little tarnished,
Yes.

But surely in reach,
And surely in sight.