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Oct 2016
You stick in my throat like something I long to say
and send a sickness sinking through me.

Then I gulp, gargle and rinse you down
my gullet like I used to do with my carrots.  

With nothing you fill me so full I could burst.
But nothing ever happens; nothing at all.

Colours drain from everything around me
as If they’ve gotten bored of trying.

Night turns in, morning falls back asleep,
and each moment moans like a teenager.  

But I still remember her perfume,
though it’s fading like a car over the hill.

I still remember the backcourts
when boredom used to bang and bounce a ball.

I still remember the scraped knees,
the first drink, the first joint, the first stolen kiss.

I still remember it all.

The memories jump start me into action.
And then I look at the clock.

And you remind me that it’s too late,
and that we will try again tomorrow.
C J Baxter
Written by
C J Baxter  The ether
(The ether)   
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