Strange the weight a date
can hold, when what you've
lost just can't stay put
as a number shut in a box.
We are in the same city
under the same noisy sky,
and a year ago we looked up
and held hands outside. But
now we are not, and all I
can think of, is you red lipped,
smiling and twirling,
of men lying and you purring,
as those fucking flowers
boast and explode in the sky.
And to think of what I said to you,
or what you said to me,
of all the I love yous and tears
and sweaty beds
and poetry.
Strange the weight a date
can hold, when every bleedin year
fireworks remind you why.