Sometimes he let his eyes rest on hers, it needn't have been painful,
but it strangely was.
He broke a lifetime of avoiding eye contact to show her.
She was worth overcoming obstacles for.

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.

In the secret passageway where we had been hiding out, avoiding the end of term Information Technology lesson H and I explored our similarities and differences.

You were a scholarship girl, a bright 12, to my slow to develop, 13.
You turned to leave,
leave me with your pearls of wisdom
utterances which would simultaneously excite and unnerve me.
Do you know I looked up the word lesbian for the second time?
You rattled me, poking at me, unlayering like an onion.

I extended my hand before my mind could take on the full summit of actions and direct consequences, of implications.
My body took the lead, you whipped around, your mouth agape, ''H'', a hoarse whisper and a quizzical yet knowing look.
You held my gaze and we both knew at that moment the truth that lived between us.

And I realised all this time I had been listening to your pathetic excuses and I bought them because I couldn't bear to take on board the implication.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but it's this same ignorance that's the death of me and I can't rationalise it.
Clinging onto a word that rhymed because I thought it better to believe the majority were simply polite and not the ghastly cruel beasts I felt them to be.

You saying your mother had a speech impediment in the form of a lisp was what really broke my heart, and I could have hurled the whole set of dinner plates across the room and it would have seemingly been a gross over-exaggeration -but my heart doesn't measure pain in levels like that.
I know the police would have been called and I'd collapse in a heap on the ground and they'd demand to know what happened?! and they'd all disclose they'd never seen anger like that.

That time you invited me to dinner I wore my best shirt and sat opposite them.
I tore down our conjoining road, feeling the thud in my heart, the lump form in my throat.

**Because I knew this was only the start.

You were never sure if it was the light in the room
but you told me;
You did not even need to squint to see a 12 year old boy.
And I could breathe then.
And only then.
At 22.

I read how you were struck off
for professional misconduct.
But it was just the right amount of intimacy
I needed to feel close.
I had no one.

You took my payment one month in advance.
I arrived early for every session
because I had nothing else to do.
Loitering on the doorstep.
You recorded our sessions, making tentative notes,
never at the expense of eye contact.
Lightly commenting how my feet dangled from the arm chair.
Unlikely I would grow much more-
you left your tone open for my interpretation,
like my growing, or not growing,
was neither here nor there.

I know you are older than me,
there are substantial years between us.
I see a woman who tries hard to be strong
to combat the daily **** she encounters.

I know you think you hide it and to others you surely do,
well, in fact.
It is plain to see you do a good job.
But I am not them.
I see.
I know.

Behind your soulful brown eyes
I know you are the woman who has lived twice.
Like many warriors on planet earth you were not given a choice.
You did not have the luxury from birth to live a life that was solely yours.

You carried the weight.
You shed tears like the skin you shed,
when one day you stopped and told yourself,
you deserved more,
you deserved more than pain
and putting others first.

Like many women you reached an age where your maternal need became too great to ignore.
As a girl your dreams carried you to motherhood
but that's all they could ever be; fantasy, imaginary games.
Reality would deal you your set of cards.
Devastatingly; there would be no fetus in the womb.

You would routinely feel dull aches upon glancing at mothers,
returning to their husbands.
Doing the school run,
grocery shopping.
Rising to acute levels of pain.
The type you struggle to brush off.
When you know something's really wrong.

That very same suburbia you rolled your eyes at,
convincing yourself you didn't want it.
Became all you ever wanted.
Always just slightly out of reach.

You would build a home with what little resources you had.
In turn, that home would be the prettiest in the neighborhood.
Delicate twining vines of sweet honeysuckle
Sun flowers standing tall and proud
to match your sunny disposition.
Anyone who ever passed could have sworn they were wearing a beaming smile.

I would call round to repaint your white picket fence,
in return for a handful of digestives and your company.
Harboring a deep heartfelt respect I would try to channel through my eyes.
I would tell you I am here.
And I can be more.
If you need me.

And how I would love to make you laugh,
really laugh,
throw back your head.
I know there is a lightness to your depth.
You have had to be so strong for so long.
It is not too late to be whisked off your feet.

Sometimes it feels like a distant memory,
there is fog in its place.
But I see the plea in your eyes
and I try my hardest to remember.

Hanging off my every word,
and you use adjectives
that have not been subject to my ears
for ever such a long time.
Amazing.
The spark in your eyes flaring, wildly.
Excitedly.

Its getting increasingly closer..
We're getting increasingly closer.
Opening up is like moving a dam thats been lodged tightly in place for years.
And what if all you see is rupture underneath?
Sometimes I'm not sure if I have feeling left in the vicinity of this body
so many numbed 'I'm fines' over the years.
But what if someone was really listening?
What if you touched me and my body responded
in the form of a deep set howl?
A wail of tears neither of us are prepared for-
because I've worn my vulnerability on every corner of this face
and I shake, I stutter, when I even muster the courage to allow
syllables leave my mouth.
And too many associated memories..
I try and allow myself to forgive-
myself.

I haven't been able to shake the feelings,
the emotional investment of my last kiss.
For many years, I gave my body to a whole host of people-
but stopped at my heart.

I told her how ''lucky'' I felt, on our first date,
as I put my arm around her, a year of knowing of her from mutual friends. Of flirting, teasing, longing. Her head moved towards mine in what felt like slow motion, my own head a whirlwind. Our first kiss quickly became several..

And, finally, our last.

I found it hard to find the right words -
sometimes I just made sounds.
She picked up the emotion.

When I could speak-
I gushed at how beautiful I found her, it turned into a grand declaration, even I wasn’t fully prepared for.
I am not one for shouting, but the passion found its way into my voice and took full flight as I revealed how I felt.
I never wanted to regret not telling her how I felt. Having this rare intimate, fleeting moment with her.
I could not help but moan and groan until her lips found their way back to mine. As if giving me life.
I felt like a sailor who'd finally made his way home.

I emptied the entire contents of my heart, despite knowing, less is more, I poured out my adoration.
It probably wasn't appropriate in a public space
but we melded together
and I melted
before we barely touched.

I fell so hard
before and after.
I just want to want somebody again.

What if I bumped into her in a queue but we weren't ever meant to cross paths?
What if she told you she would have been on time for meeting you if it wasn't for that short guy who tripped over his own shoelaces and then proceeded to drop his change?
What if that was all that was needed to break the ice, tension shifting, a light hearted swipe at men's uselessness, while snaking your arm around her waist and kissing her firmly on the mouth. ''Men, who needs them, huh'', she is yours, she is putty in your hands.
She replies, ''Not us, baby, not us''.
I am long out of sight but this is what I overhear.

I would never have got to feel what I felt when your hands found their way to my head and ruffled my hair.
I swear,
That was one of the best feelings in the world.

''Tall dark and handsome'' goes the tagline, we know all too well.
''2 out of 3 ain't bad'' you lightly comment, winking at me.
You have a pool of men to choose from, but powers of persuasion and magnetism saw you pull towards me.

I am the babyccino you treated yourself to after a hard week at work.
A sample of the love and decadence to come.
If you only let yourself-
Frothy and soft, like my body succumbing, and letting you do as you want.
Milky and sweet.
Warm with every touch.

I could be the rich flakes of shredded chocolate,
the marshmallows gracing the top,
to make a good thing-
even better.

*If only you let yourself

Today,
I saw a picture of
her.
Shes hardly aged a day,
she almost looked younger,
in fact.
I don't know how that would even be possible,
but I am a fine one to defy what seems possible or not!

And she likes men
and men alone.
Like I wasn't always a man anyway..

Like that time she pulled me towards her on cue
at the cinema,
And I ran all the way home,
elated.
Not wanting to think too much
about why.
But knowing deep down as many have,
many a time,
as many will say they always knew,
deep down.

You had me in the tropics  
Sun sand and sea.
You touched me in places no one else could reach.
Where others saw nothing-
you happened upon the most beautiful something.
Thank you for that.

I needed that.
I needed you,
Michelle.

I miss you
it's hell without you.

Money can't buy everything-
Michelle
you held me
I never got to tell you
how hard my heart fell.

I'd waited for you since I was 15
and met you the night I turned 21.
I had been in Australia 3 months.
Jaw dropping
heart stopping
Michelle.

You showed me the meaning of
making love.
In a single caress
you showed me tenderness
the searing ache -
where pleasure meets pain.
Michelle.

L.S.D 4 M.F.B
I should never have made light of illegal substances.
I'd never have known such a substance would get to your head,
your blood stream,
cloud your vision,
leave me.

L.S.D 4 M.F.B
You lit tea- lights,
black out.
Arm placed round my waist,
led me into your haven,
eyes wide open.

L.S.D 4 M.F.B
Body curled around me.
Strobe lights in a club,
hands on another,
eyes glazed over.
Shock injected-
my trip ends.

If I could take back a flippant remark,
something I was proud of,
joked about.
I'd run from light to dark.
I'd have kept my mouth shut.
I'd have shut right up.
Shut the **** up.

And they asked me if I knew that boy and boy did I know that boy!
And they delivered a sentence to cause a quick, sharp movement on my part.
And at this point I thank my lucky stars there is a door between us.

My face is doing funny things and I haven't the slightest moment nor the power to stop it.
And I am not sure if I want to weep or scream, my body nears convulsion- I slowly think about what this means.
I curled back into myself, withdrawing my friendly hand.

But my body was telling me; I was safe all along.

Sometimes I think of her
as I am pursued by him.
When do you know to ask a woman out?
When is the line from friendly chat to potential dating material
moved?
I'd have liked to think my past could clarify situations like this-
but I am oblivious, haven't the foggiest.
The testosterone has provided a thick mist of confusion, a smog, its flooded my brain, nothing will ever be the same.
A barrier between myself and my most protected feelings.

Sure, I'd kiss him, it'd probably feel nice,
but I'd like to spend more time talking to her,
really talking.
If *** was an experience in making love
if we ran out of conversation
and wanted our bodies to fill in the rest.
If it just felt good to be close to somebody.

It was the weight of you sat resting against my knees.
The ease with which your features lit up around me.
"He likes boys" you tell me.
And I smile back,
as wide as I can stretch my lips.
I try to make my face beam like his.
I try to match his effortless moon face.
And remember what it is like to thrive off simple joys.
For I am 28, and felt the cynicism of life's scorn.
I have weathered worn skin and a patch of white hairs in my beard.
But, I swear I will never let you see the furrowed brow of a frown around me.
And I thought of being a father and it struck me how natural holding someone else's son felt.
I couldn't help but steal nervous glances at his father for fear of taking his place.
Walking straight into it, as if putting on his shoes.

I have only ever kept two cards in my lifetime.
Both I treasure.
One of which my brother called me his brother for the first time.
It only took 29 years.
The other, you addressed me as ''darling'' inside.
You can see how much you mean to me.
The closest I have ever got to the real thing.

Sometimes I wonder
How many others
have frequented this same spot,
have felt heavy limbs drop.
Passive to what came next-
As if no amount of questioning could save their fate.
Have had their heart broken at King's Cross Station..

What possessed you to purchase a one way train ticket-
skipping school, breaking a perfect attendance record
seemingly on a whim?
Starting a new term, boredom ensued,
adventure beckoned.
Recent changes in behaviour surely set the scene.

Were you summoned by false promises-
Lured into the arms of a man you felt compelled to meet
On a week day, in the city?
I could have sat in the same train carriage
I could have met your eye.
Remembering the whirlwind that was, 14.
Writing in a diary no one would ever read.
Shredding into pieces, aged 18.
Forgive me,
I couldn't fathom seeing 18, at, 14.
Far fetched in forgetting time marches on,
being stuck in a place of pain.
Clinging on to suggestive song lyrics,
suggesting being Queer was okay.

Did he tell you it would be Okay?

You wore your favourite band t-shirt, had awoken late
in an irritable mood that morning.
Out of character, they said.
They traced any internet activity  
any possible CCTV sightings.
You had lost a mobile phone over a year ago.
The trail of answers quickly ran cold
the stream of questions would never end.

Your dad felt you might have struggled with your sexuality
though you never explicitly said anything.
Shame can embody you, silence you.
At 14 it can surely threaten to suffocate you!
I still ache for the shame I let cover curious green eyes,
for the sugar mouse she promised me at 14,
for the arms I kept by my sides.
''It gets better'' is the narrative attempt to reassure you on YouTube,
but how many difficult years must first pass until it is bearable?

Hindsight is a luxury afforded only with time.

Sometimes I wonder
How many others
have frequented this same spot,
have felt heavy limbs drop.
Passive to what came next-
As if no amount of questioning could save their fate.
Have had their heart broken at King's Cross Station?