Need to make you see

The love I bear you

I...

I can't.

Love is the fourth state of matter -

Or fifth, I haven't counted them lately.

You will never know it exists unless I bash your skull in with kisses

Crumple your hand in my hold

Cave your face with the strength of my stare. That same gaze that's trying to memorise -

Or map - every eyelash, and the tiny mole just above your eyelid, for further exploration.

If only your heart could compress

Any time I touch your chest

Then I

Then I think you would know.

No need for explanation.

No need to punch or kick.

I don't want
To break with you.

Can't we still be babies
In a tub,

Tattling to our mums;
Watching our worlds end,
And still falling asleep as friends?

I want to still be
The angle-face good one,

To your fantastically beautiful spiky one,

But you see, with age,
Comes bitchiness and a sense of

Self respect.

I never had that before
Around you.

Oh, I was your good little dolly,
Darling of your heart

But you like to beat that muscle well,
Don't you?

Much harder than necessary.

So why then
Do you think that
This constriction and skipping of a beating
Was a surprise attack of the heart?

This is the first
Time I've been out of love
In years.

It's odd.

I'm clinging to heartbreak; I find
I am
Thinking of your lovely hands, and how I miss them:
Your shallow sleep-breathing
And your stubble in the evening.

I'm pinching myself in places that you kissed me,
Wanting to feel the wanting
You stirred inside my body.

Needing to remember;
I conjure up your laugh -
But it's more alive than you ever were -

And in death this romance seems to be sweeter.

And in life, in truth, it was all just so much simpler.

There is a photograph of  you and that man.
You: in a dress we shared -

Looks better on your frame anyway.
But when you're standing next to him,
Forgive me, if I wrap you in thick black sheets
Of Kevlar.

Because that frame has been shattered
And I don't have enough glue left for the next time.
Because there
Will
Be a next time.

Long bare legs and pouty lips, your hair; dark, and mine
Lank; I can't sleep.

I'm afraid for you.
I'm afraid of him.

I'm sorry I couldn't do enough
To break you apart -

I'm sorry it's not what you wanted
I'm sorry your whole family adores him -

I'm sorry I can't - won't - be there any more.
On that we agree.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I am not forgiving -
I am not to be trifled with -
I am not a fool,
And I am not about to fall
For your watery smiles
As you make yourself the victim
In the aftermath
Of the ****** mess
You made of my head.

Rarely am I ever,
But in this I am innocent,
And I will not stoop to your level,
But neither will I raise you to mine.

I hate you.
And I think I always will;
Because how can I love the bullet
In the guise of a friend
That exposed my thoughts
And my fears
And my worries
To the open air
And its pigeons
For ridicule?

This was not a two sided thing.
This was a trick coin
That showed your two faces.

So don't you dare throw forgive and forget in my face,
When a minute ago, you were flinging ****.

In your eyes, I see a storm.

Tells me that
There is no safe harbour anywhere -

No point in trying to dock in your arms.
Nothing left to hold me down now.

And it's starting to rain.

And I have nothing to say but

Sorry.
I am sorry.

I forecast this morning all wrong.

Some days I
Want to forget you exist.

Those are the days when, crowded by faces and laughter
I get lonely
Because you're not there.

I want to pretend that I've never known your love when faced with
A glance between myself and that Adonis technician,
Because I'm just dying to be someone's goddess myself.

I want to forget that you were ever born when
Looking into the faces of all my friend's babies,
I know that yours must be a thousand times more cherubic;

Whoever the mother is.
Because I know she will be beautiful.

You have a passion for collecting fine art, my love,
Then breaking it apart.