We stand on wooden floors, once were new and glossy
Now scuffed and varnished with spirits
After you danced when I pretended not to see you first
Beneath the sculpture which in my head is ours.

I've never seen someone smile so much
At a ball of stuffing and chain
That now hangs faithfully from your jeans.
Like a polyester medal.

Outside to nicotine fog
Where you describe your dream
And I can't quite find words.
So I interrupt you instead,
I launch my arms out over the Irish sea
And around you.


You stopped talking instantly.