Across the road
from the underground station
next to the Christian tabernacle
you sat with Helen

on the standing wall
of a bombed out house
she clutched her doll
Battered Betty

looking around her
I've never been
on this bomb site before
she said

the people who lived here
must have been really scared
if they heard the siren in time
they may have got out

but some didn't of course
you said
trying to imagine
what the houses looked like

before the bombing
how the gardens
may have been well kept
may have had vegetables

and flowers growing
in the small beds
at the back of the house
a lady my mum knew

got blown up
and all they found
was her hand
with her wedding ring

still there
Helen said
******* up her nose
making her thick lens glasses

move on her nose
my mum said
she and her stepfather
used to hide

under the large oak table
in the kitchen
if they got caught out
by the bombing

you said
and Mum said her stepfather's bottom
was sticking out
at one end of the table

Helen laughed
you liked it when she laughed
it made dimples in her cheeks
and her eyes lit up

behind her glasses
best not tell Mum
I've been on the bomb site
Helen said

she said they're dangerous places
they are
you said
but hell what would life be

without a bit of danger?
what does your dad say
when you tell him
you've been on the bomb sites?

she asked
rocking Battered Betty
in her arms
nothing much

except not to wear
my best clothes on there
is that all?
she said

yes pretty much
you said
what about your mum?
you looked at her

her hair tied in two pigtails
her eyes large
beyond the lens
she says be careful

not to climb
you said
but you do
Helen said

you did it just now
to get up here
yes I know that
and you know that

but my mum needn't
you said
banging the back
of your shoes

on the wall gently
don't you tell
your mum everything
you do?

she asked
I do
you frowned
I try not to worry her

you said
doesn't she asked
what you've done or been?
yes but I needn't

tell her everything
you said
she has enough worries
without me adding to them

I think it best
I imagine other places
or things done
to keep her

from worrying
Helen shook her head
you have a strange
sense of truth

she said
holding Betty tight
to her chest
her chin resting

on the doll's head
how about an ice cream
at Baldy's​​​?
you said

Baldy's?
she said
where is Baldy's​?
the grocer shop

before you get
to the railway bridge
down Rockingham Street
you said

the owner is as bald as a coot
she laughed
ok
she said

and so you both
climbed down
from the wall
and walked down

and along
to the subway
and on to the shop
to get ice creams

she smiling
with her battered doll
you with your cowboy
shooting dreams.

i imagine you
brain on fire
fingers clumsily
- no maybe not clumsily
but fumbling,
tap, tap, tap
at the ipad
in a furious
rush to
release the word
overflowing

you have a
terminal case of
the word splash
the word flood
the word burn
and yours is not only
terminal
it is contagious
you give it to others
in a most
gracious way

the words mock
you and heal you
wake you and
bring the best
of yourself
to us
the lucky few
who catch your
terminal fever
in the wee hours
unexpected
and
forever
changed

you are like black magic,
a hidden lip underneath a night of grace; underneath the canopy
of old soul trees, stretching out above
to protect hearts from being
hurt;
but you,

you are like black magic
and cheeky lick kisses under ****** blankets.
you were a secret
you were a shame
you were a dose of mortifying pleasure;
a sore amount; a quarter of a cup; a batch of chocolate chip cookies
with just one egg,
splenda, not sugar,
tofu, not meat,
never enough;
but I’m a sucker for vegetarianism and anything
orthorexic – I’ve compared you
to my biggest demon
too often; so I should really know that
you’re toxic –

I dance alone
with my eyes closed
and you’re there; step step, close.
your fingers slide into the gaps between mine
and now we’re interlocking,
like a devil on my back;
I move with you; dancing to your heartbeat
step step step, hold me close
and never let me go
-- oh please let me go
-- oh maybe I should let go.

We’re Getting Older,
the lyrics in the song I am listening to
tell me;
but I feel young under your gaze
a time machine; taking me back to a year ago
in the winter
in the cold
under the open, black sky
because the trees are broken and little in the winter,
leafless,
and don’t have enough life in them
to protect my heart
from being hurt
(by you).
oh you,

you are like black magic,
and I am like a baby lioness,
proud and easily tamed.

The trials and tribulations of a broken heart
Will be encountered by everyone
But Augustus Waters once said you could choose
Who would break yours
And if you were to tell me I was stupid
To listen to advice from a fictional character;
Let me tell you that I had it figured out even before
reading the book.

I do not wish to find love, or even attempt relationships
Because I know myself best
And myself is a cruel person.
I do not wish ill upon another
In the form of my presence in their life.
And I do not wish to be hurt by them as well
Because as cruel as I am , I am a passionate, sensitive person.
I cry over losing fictional characters;
I do not wish to know how it is like to cry over people.
At the very least, I could relive my times with my fictional characters;
I could open page one again, or being the first episode all over.
But, I cannot relive my times and do as such with real, tangible people,
And I do not choose to get hurt by them.
And that is why
I am not brave.

I started to write a poem
That was so full of hate, and bile,
That it made me retch to re-read it.
That's not the way I am,
I won't be reduced to that.
You have done, what you had to do,
Nothing more.
I can't judge you for it.
I deleted that poisonous poem,
I won't start down that road.
I still care, I hope that will change,
I hope that you are okay,
I forgive you,
In the hope that someday
I can forgive myself.
It is not easy to write this,
I don't want to forgive,
And I don't want to let you go,
But I will, and I must.

Oh, goodbye,
Goodbye,
You were everything, and now we're nothing.
I will miss you.

I will miss you.

There was a road, way back there and a wave so high
it rolled over, washing over me.
Time has a way of moving, looking back to see,
your hands waving back at me.
In the middle of the road, that day
when leaves were falling
over you, over me.

Now sun hits the morning, only to run away
clouds and the trees so windy, all the day
til the moon rises over, like a wave
shining over you,
over me

: )