Shrug

Whilst most men think they're great
in bed
There's no such thing as
awful head
What they give's real it's
never fake
The truth may well be hard
to take
I'll never make that
foolish brag
I'm sure I'm just an
average shag
When you think I've loved you
all I can
I probably have
I'm just
a man

Poem Mope

Girl With A One-Track Mind

I'm wicked, ranting harlot
I adore warmth 'n' tickling
Wanking at mild rhetoric

I want a thick, modern girl
Manic whore talking dirt
Thinking crowd material?

Together

Relationships are difficult, aren't they?

All that compromise and mutual respect and trust and honesty and (sometimes) fidelity and memories and planning and effort and work and commitment and making mistakes and learning from those mistakes and in sickness and health and for better or worse and for richer or poorer and not in any particular order.

Until death do you part.

When we moved in together I knew everything wouldn't always be perfect. We'd only just met after all. But I knew that I wanted you. Wanted you to be with me. Knew that we'd learn to live with each other as we went along. And that you could make my house a home.

Where the heart is.

You looked lovely when I first saw you. I can still remember it vividly. There were others there, but you stood out. If I could have deemed a single moment in my life as too perfect, I might well have done it there and then. You were cold-looking but emanated warmth. You had an air of comfort and confidence and solidity. When I touched you I knew that I had to have you. And even though it might sound a bit daft, you were somehow... I don't know... the right size? Height and everything. I thought you had dimensions to die for.

I told you it would sound daft.

I couldn't work you out for a couple of years, not all of you. I'd pieced half of you together, from what I could see, and what I thought I knew. It's not that I didn't want to know the whole of you. I knew you were all there, and I knew it wouldn't take much, if anything, to discover all of you. A day. A snapshot. A moment of concentration and focus and dedication. I thought about you literally all the time. But something else always seemed to get in the way.

So you stayed with me, like I knew you would, where else could you go? But pretty soon it was obvious that things weren't working out as we'd hoped. I made promises I knew I couldn't keep. Claimed and blamed tomorrows as the pivot, the fulcrum of my vows. Because other stuff happens. Other stuff always happens. Things outside the things you know are more important. And The Thing is that I was so much happier to start with. Happy when I met you, happy when I took you home to stay with me all those moons ago.

I'm indebted to your patience and forgiveness. Envious of your placidity and charm. I might have said that you completed me, but when would I complete you?

I should have put you first, and finally I have.



So I'm happy again.

Somethingnothing

I've kissed your beautiful lips
Heard your mouth start gasping
And held onto your hips
There's nothing in between us then
There's something I should tell you
But I didn't say when

I've seen your beautiful smile
And your pained expression
As you start the last mile
It's something that I've not done yet
There's nothing that I couldn't
Or might live to regret

I've stroked your beautiful skin
Felt your warmth turn colder
And the sense I can't win
There's nothing now where you have been
There's something I can't let go
Do you know what I mean?

I've wiped you beautiful tears
Crying eyes like diamonds
And allaying your fears
There's nothing that I'd want to change
There's something that I couldn't
Is it really so strange?

I've held your beautiful hand
Fingers wrapped round fingers
Life slipped through them like sand
It's something that will always be
There's nothing that can change it
It is our history

I've heard your beautiful laugh
Told the world that's listening
You were my better half
It's something that I can't forget
There's nothing left to live for
At least nothing just yet

Dream #1

I woke up in tears, thinking about my Dad. He'd been in my dreams again.

We'd argued and I didn't want to argue any more. Such an ultimately senseless waste of emotion. I don't remember what we'd argued about. Is that the thing about arguments or the thing about dreams?

We were both so angry that our bodies were frigid with frustration and rage.

And then.

When the argument plateaued.

When the last drops of ire were squeezed from it.

We caught each other's glare.

I thought I saw him blink, and leapt. I wrapped my arms around his torso, my body relaxed. He wouldn't hug me back at first. I embraced a manequin. Hard and cold and fixed and matt. But gradually I sensed his body soften, his arms around my shoulders, our heads at tangents, our minds united by love and history and blood. Then finally, before I woke up, I felt his chest against mine, a faint heartbeat, and we both gently started crying our apologies. Our clinch flooded with colour.