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86 · Apr 2018
Ghost
addicthead Apr 2018
Ghost

The dry rope chafed on leather glove
As the long box inched further down
She looked her best in summer gown
And they all thought she was my love

I forced a tear as best I could
As casket docked on cold damp earth
It cost far more than she was worth
With teak veneer it looked like wood

And then the devil in black dress
Threw in a stone concealed by mud
That landed with a hollow thud
And caused a bit of awkwardness

That mirrored my interior
My bitter hatred cloaked the grief
And my true feelings of relief;
She made me feel inferior

Withheld love; a deprivation
Comparisons to godly men
Who she would mention now and then
Were longer in length and duration

The small crowd at The Feathers thought
That they all knew what I would want
(Condolences and vol-au-vents)
But I just craved my single malt

Behind their cold eyes I could see
Beyond the smiles their true position
(The staircase scene held in suspicion)
A finger pointing straight at me

“Time please Gents!” then filled the air
And trapped me as a hungry mouse
I could not return to the house
I knew full well she´d still be there
73 · Apr 2018
For Tracy
addicthead Apr 2018
For Tracy

I wish I had the *****
To say this to your face
But I'm all over the place
Maybe someone will find my diary
Rip out the pages
And say these words to you
In a nicer accent than mine
But you'll know it’s me

That day after we left school
And I got inebriated
In that club (CIU affiliated)
You walked out, arm in arm
With Tony the ****
And all I could do
To show my hurt
Was sick down my shirt

At Jackie and Teds reception
In the Golden Lion
I saw you looking at me
With that smile
You kept for children
And catalogue men
I didn't have the *****
They still ain't dropped
After all these years baby
After all these years
But if they did I wouldn't have stopped

So hear me now baby
Through his posh inflection
The plans I had for us
You need to hear of the direction
We were headed
The dreams I dreamt for us
I mourn the time we snogged
In the alley near the allotments
Where the drudgery of life
Could not get through to us
If the moon had changed its cycle
I'd have met your ******

That bank holiday weekend
Just after the storm
I had my Uncle Bobs van
A stereo to die for,
No tax, (it was applied for)
One windscreen wiper
But three good tyres
And I knew you were an optimist

The only thing that stood
Between the Sheppey Isle
And our bliss
Was a country mile
The A13, my hesitancy
And ability to miss or miss
That caravan was ours
For three whole days
I was flush with cash
Seventy two pounds sterling
In coins
We could have been King and Queen

The boot was well stocked
With 2 bottles of Polish *****
From the **** shop
And a pocket full of 10 mil Vallies
I nicked from your Mum
At that knees-up
When your grand-dad died
I could have held your perfect hand
And crushed your tiny fingers
If you had lied
About your love for me
Which you would have only done
To save your heart from breaking

You have always been my hero
You shat on the swings
And did other things
That no-one dared
But you never
Got smaller
Unlike
Me

So when you hear his posh voice
Think of me
Think of the caravan
Think of Leysdown
Then look down at the fallen chair
Look up at my limp body
Do what I never could

And cry your ******* heart out

— The End —