I went back.
A week later,
everything foreign,
off
the map.
Rain.
I bought
a strawberry milkshake,
your favourite
from that cafe
we had breakfast in one time,
and you told me
your middle name
with a mouthful of croissant.
I still don't know what it is.
It didn't taste as good
and the price had gone up.
Carousel was closed,
found a bench,
must've slept.
Woke up soaked,
clothes clinging to me
like Velcro,
dog taking a leak,
watch said midday.
Went walking.
More rain.
It took your footprints,
snatched them away.
I couldn't find our castle,
that too had succumbed,
crumbled to pieces
like you and me
and you.
I can still smell the sea
on your shoulder-blades,
in your hair,
on the gap
between your nose
and your lip.
Didn't like being tickled
but I did it anyway...
you still laughed
and made black days
wildly red.
A memory,
memories
trickling as bathwater
down a plughole.
We ate raspberries,
threw rocks,
danced about like rag-dolls
to songs we'd just made up.
I called you Ringo,
you called me John.
Now the waves,
***** diamonds
scare me as soon
as they skedaddle
over my toes.
You are not lost,
and yet
I cannot find you.
Rain.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
I went back.
A week later,
everything foreign,
off
the map.
Rain.
I bought
a strawberry milkshake,
your favourite
from that cafe
we had breakfast in one time,
and you told me
your middle name
with a mouthful of croissant.
I still don't know what it is.
It didn't taste as good
and the price had gone up.
Carousel was closed,
found a bench,
must've slept.
Woke up soaked,
clothes clinging to me
like Velcro,
dog taking a leak,
watch said midday.
Went walking.
More rain.
It took your footprints,
snatched them away.
I couldn't find our castle,
that too had succumbed,
crumbled to pieces
like you and me
and you.
I can still smell the sea
on your shoulder-blades,
in your hair,
on the gap
between your nose
and your lip.
Didn't like being tickled
but I did it anyway...
you still laughed
and made black days
wildly red.
A memory,
memories
trickling as bathwater
down a plughole.
We ate raspberries,
threw rocks,
danced about like rag-dolls
to songs we'd just made up.
I called you Ringo,
you called me John.
Now the waves,
***** diamonds
scare me as soon
as they skedaddle
over my toes.
You are not lost,
and yet
I cannot find you.
Rain.
Written: September 2014.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, and part of my ongoing beach/sea dream couple series (the last of which was 'You said'). This piece is written in a sort of worn-down, fragmented style. It could be stronger, but I am happy with it for now. Feedback on all work is welcome.
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