He will take his coffee black And alone, though you will observe one day That he will sometimes, surreptitiously sweeten it When he thinks that you aren’t looking
The bad weather of his cigarettes he always putting out Will insinuate their way through his curls And flavour your kitchen In strange tastes and lingering long gone stains
He will dread his hair when he’s anxious Fearful or caught in a bedsit lie Fingertips finding cures for traps in The knots and tangles of escapism
And he will smile. Absently and presently Nodding in all the sign here dotted lines Murmuring the correct kicked-out-of-home Superlatives to all your wonderful, desperate ideas
Do not trust his put upon grin Do not lose yourself in back alley, bottle-cove Teeth flash and spark, fight or flight smiles He will have put up this defence before
I know he refrains from cruel words and pauses Considers his actions and dismisses his first thoughts as cruel He will look like he’s been caught with one foot Caught in the cookie jar open door
Just because he doesn’t say “*****” doesn’t mean He doesn’t want to. His tongue has sculpted this word well before And the aftermath left him as he called her and apology
This will show control, not concern And this is measured in proven glances Designed to test theories And the limits of his patience
He will wait till he is tucked right into you To let the lodger act fall And he will say this house is his Even if you built it
He will wear an excuse a hundred miles Or until he is next alone, whichever get’s there last He will not last He will not shut the door behind him as he goes
But instead leave a cruel breeze In the shape of abandonment His tenancy touch will not Ask for a deposit back
Nor will he leave you a forwarding address For all your last warning words Undelivered on your tongue
If people are houses then are our lovers lodgers or neighbours, or extensions or lean tos? Perhaps this is true of everyone but the last person you want a lover to end up with is someone just like you, no matter how poor a fit the relationship may have been or if you were the one who ended it, i always find a selfish possessiveness of the grief of breakups.