stop or I’ll come
she said as if it was a bad thing

confused I lay my head beside hers and looked up
at a picture on her pink bedroom wall

cut out from a magazine
of a minor celebrity

tangled up in a pair of
disembodied long black legs

I said I found the picture offensive
she blamed her mother for putting
it up

I wondered why her mother
would have anything to do
with the decorating of a grown
woman’s bedroom

and thought of all
the minor celebrities who had adorned my
pink bedroom walls

none of whom had ever been
tangled up in a pair of
disembodied long black legs

not to my knowledge anyway

everything seems copied and pasted
everything seems done before
the fear of finally saying you love me
when i’ve heard it a thousand times and more
romantic dinners at romantic restaurants
romantic walks romantic breaks
dressing up in cheap lingerie
sitting on your wanton face

everything seems copied and pasted
all the good and all the bad
whispered words of tender undoing
bitter fights that drive me mad
stress filled dinners at stress filled restaurants
stress filled walks stress filled breaks
dressing down in unflattering pyjamas
pushing away your angry face

everything seems copied and pasted
something old nothing new
everything borrowed

this girl I know
who always wears summer dresses
and a smile
lent me a book on awareness
but wants it back before
she goes to work in a conflict zone
for the red cross in september

she travelled in a big red bus
to a surfers festival in donegal
where she worked
in the big red bus café
on her breaks she surfed
smoked loads of ****
listened to reggae and ate falafel

last Wednesday she received a
back payment from the social welfare
and felt guilty about it
so she donated half of it to charity
bought donkeys for three Ethiopian families
spent a small fortune on ingredients for a friends dinner
and paid for my vegetable soup

she stopped at a chocolatier
to buy one solitary chocolate
and then ate it hurriedly
while she chatted to
a circus guy she knew
about a party she had missed when she
was on the big red bus

while skimming through books
in the spirituality section
wearing her summer dress and a smile
she said she felt sick
from having eaten the chocolate too
quickly and was sad that she hadn’t
taken the time to enjoy it

today the red cross sent her for
a chest x-ray

I’m in a relationship
with the man
working behind the counter
at the post office

though I have yet
to determine
the nature of our pairing

he asks me how I am
as if fumbling for words
on a first date
i reply quickly fine fine and you?

he nods disappointed by
my urgency
and half-hearted smile

moments pass in silence
as we chew on our respective entrees
he looks at me questioningly
i stare down at my phone

a slip of paper is issued
I sign it he counts out the money
I stare at his chest hair

instead of placing it on the
counter he carefully slips
the notes and coins
into my outstretched hand

for that singular tactile experience
before our time is up
his soft blue eyes

always expectant
impatiently drink of me
without my acquiescence until
I leave there

awkwardly drained
knowing that
he’s watching me go

this girl I know
is always sick and
always wants to talk
about it to the point that
everybody else
is sick of her

she says her hormones
are a mess
she can’t lose weight
she’s under too
much pressure
yet she’d drink you
clean under the table

she has these
minor cancer scares
and is convinced
she’s bound to get it
she’s often returned
from the doctors
disappointed
to get the all clear

of course the swine flu
didn’t stand a chance
of passing her by
last I heard
she was holed up in bed
with a bottle of wine and 200 marlboro lights
broadcasting her
lastest ailment
via twitter

i put you on a pedestal and googled your name
i followed you to night-clubs and cried in the rain
i bought you a coach's jacket and washed off the stain
i made love to your girlfriend but she never, never came

now the only thing that's left of my heart is a beat
the only thing that's left of my heart is a beat
the only thing that's left of my heart is a beat
the only thing that's left of my heart is a -

you brought me out for dinner and just talked about your ex
the only time you shut up is when we're having ***
you know my hotmail password and you always check my texts
I tried to leave a year ago but now it's too complex

the only thing that's left of my heart is a beat
the only thing that's left of my heart is a beat
the only thing that's left of my heart is a beat
the only thing that's left of my heart is a -

i wish i could top up your love
like credit on your mobile phone
it might leave me constantly broke
but at least your love I would own.