I’m in the pub and "You Can’t Buy Me Love" comes on. I know I can’t.
I sit, nursing a glass of wine for maybe two or three hours. Brooding. Thinking. I remembered the other night, while in bed, I cried. Not knowing why, but I thought of you. No thought in particular. Just a momentary flash. Lying there in the dark, I welled-up for a second, saw you were there and then fell back asleep. And now, the wine now in my head tells me I was upset because I don’t miss you.
I don’t miss much these days.
"Every Day A Little Death" remembered in the pub.
I wanted you to think me a genius. But I opened my mouth, letting the words fall-out one by one and in the process became a fool. You tell me to ‘go to ****’ and all I can do is laugh, which causes you to laugh. We both know I’m in ****. I love you, and I tell you so. ‘Yeah I know,’ you say. You too, are in my ****.
We still make love as if it’s our first time. You hold me, touch and caress me as you always have, turning what I think is minutes into hours. I want it to never end. I awake the next day, look in your eyes and feel like a complete failure. You feel it too, my failure. My new day in **** starts, and you come with me – to keep me company.
Back from the pub.
You are sleeping. I watch you. An exercise I have performed many times before. I stand in the dark. Watching. Listening. To you. You are just so beautiful, so ******* beautiful. I well-up. What the **** are you doing with me? I want you to go away and find yourself some happiness. I won’t miss you, you know. I won’t. I crawl into bed, failing miserably not to wake you. You roll-over to me, kissing my back and neck. ‘I love you.’
Kissing your hands, your beautiful hands, I reply, ‘Yeah I know.’
Every Day A Little Death is a song by Stephen Sondheim from the musical a little night music.