I don’t know how we changed,
and when

I can’t remember the first time we kissed
or the first time we - well.
but I remember the first time you told me where you were living next year
and the second time
and the third.

you picked the right moment to meet me, or was it just chance?
that the club was closing but there was still time for one dance

and I only had one ciggie left but you didn’t mind sharing
and you knew where the after party was and you didn’t mind sharing

I have to stop seeing techno boys
Because I think that it’s meaningful when really I’m just high
on the music.

I really want to talk to you about how crazy it is that the light hitting the Earth right now is billions of years old
or maybe just how my day went because I’m not a Tumblr post

we’re sitting in the pub with two drinks between us like a moat
and I really want to tell you something
but I CAN'T because you're talking
about where you're going to be living
next year.

or what you study at uni & last week's pub crawl
you say all these words and you just say **** ALL

but I just smile and filter you out
because in the end I know there’s no doubt
that we’ll go home tonight and go through the motions
& in the morning you’ll leave to ‘charge your phone’

I’m kidding I’m kidding take me seriously, please
not that I care but it means the world to me

because the person you are in my head doesn’t match up
to the boy sitting in front of me on a ****-up

I think that I'm realising I’m in love with MY love
and it’s impossible for you to ever measure up

(but anyway you were kinda setting yourself up to fail)
(when you spend the whole date talking about trainer resales)

so I guess this is a break-up - if we even warrant that -
cause I know we won't speak if I don't text back

and then in three months, I’ll run into you again
and I’ll wonder how we changed,
and when.

water poured, hot
bag steeping
quiet feeling of displacement
seep in with soft speed
tea leaves dispersing.

lemon squeezed
take it easy.
stir, stir, clink.
consider the options
for the second half.

map out plans
though title waves
and an old title track
on napkin or flyer back

jukebox static
brow semi circle refills
cream curdles from
remnants and resales.

stale smoke
quiet choke.
cup empty, the words gone
and payment is entailed.

grab your small cash
set the sails
past parking lots and guard rails.

Original Write: August 19, 2015 Edit September 13, 2015
C.e.M.