Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2010
Hey you,

Just got back to the flat, not the same without you sat at the top of the stairs typing away.

Reminders all over, showing me of your recent presence.
First sight at pile of dishes that you washed,
Empty grissini breadstick's box,
Still some tzatziki and houmous left though.

Need a ****, can't deal with this already.
Ahh, that's better. A tooth-brush is missing,
Spa Covent Garden Sanctuary, Irish Meadow?
Will upstairs be any better?

Must pause, plug in interent hub. ****,
Back to old self so soon.
Duvet squashed up to the back wall,
Can almost make out your imprint.

I'm reluctant to throw out the remaining *** butts,
Seems as if you're still here.
Half drunken mugs of tea, finished quiche,
Can't believe I was so sick on the last night.

Bad dreams yesterday, two in fact.
Both being hung over ridiculous heights.
No good with that, big fear.
A sign of pressure bearing down?

Held council to rights, no joy.
Start the whole drawn out claim again,
Lot's of boxes to tick and fill.
Toss pots, must bite tongue and get on.

Doctor’s waiting room has mags for women only,
Nothing to chill my nervous mind.
'But are you going to faint on me?'
I made it through allright, lost some blood.

ECG scan on Thursday, for what though?
Chest or heart? Probably heart.
Mid-life wake-up call come early.
Do I really want to know? I suppose.


Where's my lovely? I need her so.
A cuddle, a smile, all better.
Action time- phoned all bills, extra time.
C'mere money, pretty please?

What thong then? Suspicious...
I was right (kinda)! ***!!!
So excited, so touched, wow!
We will work it out Dee.

Thoughts of wild horses scare me not,
Something feeling very right, not at all wrong.
Hardest thing ever has already been done-
Finding that special little someone.
T Beaumont Wilson
Written by
T Beaumont Wilson
1.7k
   Ed Phillips
Please log in to view and add comments on poems