dry

I dream of you in my aunty's house. it was her birthday yesterday and you are living in the tv room. we used to pile in there on sleepy afternoons, a dozen cousins and my older brother. I was the youngest of the lot, sitting on the end of someone's knees. we'd watch long movies I didn't understand and I'd frustrate them with my questions. in your domain the couch has been relinquished for your bed. it's nighttime and you are stretching on the floor. I'm looking for my drawings on the walls. we have somewhere to be but don't end up leaving the room. when you join me on the bed you tell me that my lips are dry. I think it's because you don't kiss them anymore.

room for more

in a hotel in my dream waiting for friends from another life. together we once haunted the crumbling remains of another in a sleepy bonfire town. worlds away and years ago. I remember grieving the home we made of strangers and the clouds, momentary orphans playing family for a few months. in the year that followed I would cry every other day. I missed my friends and couldn't fathom moving forward having built our little life and home together. now we live as different people passing time in different places.

without forgetting I have learned to miss and still make room for more to come. in taking every joy time still has the grace to give me space to change and move like water. shapes shift beyond my power with the seasons as they roll. new flowers follow. I never saw you coming, just as I would never close the door. I miss you like my openness for now. I'll make room for more with time.

one side to the other

the junkie on the tram home pokes his head out of the open doors at every stop. 'any of these places could be home!' I wonder if he's lost or just enjoys a stage in motion and an audience. his monologuing scares us all into our phones.

there's a letter I could write you hanging dormant in a note between more poetry and dreams. there's a pit in my heart that we dug without thinking. you left without warning. without knowing why I'm left without a way to fill the gaps. I listen to our songs and wonder if you hear me like I hear you in the words. an empty bottle rolls from one side to the other as we hurtle past the cemetery.

first dress notes

eye contact on 'o farewell, honest soldier'

dull your sparkle

keep standing in triangles

there is more in every word that we are saying

'yes, sir'

laugh along with the others whilst they laugh at you

return the skull to the ground with kindness

exit with purpose

listen to don't let the good life pass you by

at the comedy show

seeking counsel from your predecessor on the phone. 'your love is what makes you so beautiful. someone worthy of it will hold that tightly and never let go.' I wonder how much of this he means, having been on the receiving end / in your position not so long ago. speaking for myself I struggle to believe even the sentiment. breathing and crying I know that I would never ask so much. in an unsuspecting winter we both seemed happy for a moment. you wanted what I wanted. devoid of expectation we were free to glow together and we did.

I took your photo as we cycled through the golden hour. you led the way in a purple jumper. a short cut down a lane. a flower just for me. we cooked Mexican and talked about the boys we left behind. in your room we made music. you said the wrinkles round my eyes could break your heart. I'd have frozen in that moment / your eyes if I could.

back row at the comedy show playing the friend someone needs. mistaking the back of a stranger for you. a hollow in my heart. seven days is a week / a lifetime / nothing at all. what is time to a heart without resolve? I wonder how you're feeling / what you're doing / if you'd know I want to know. I miss you and I hope you're keeping well.

on the tram to work

business casual on the tram to work. headphones on. staring vacant out the window greeting traffic with a smile. another Monday keeping face. in my armour I can pass as anything I need to be for long enough.

I relish silence between strangers, their unfamiliar faces welcome comfort from the torment of the things I've known / loved / lost. we keep a friendly distance segregated by our ghosts and the separate scores we dictate on our phones. listening to love songs we once played each other on guitar. they don't know this or you or me. to them I am another in a packt can of sardines. to me they are the same. I know as much of their fears and dreams as they do mine. of ghosts they only know their own. we were until we weren't and they are none the wiser.

your name is still an anchor in the hollow of my heart. on the tram to work at least I have another day to start.

nice things

sun for the first time since you left. making friends of strangers using strings of lyrics out of sense. laughing in a borrowed language. being held by friends who want to understand. we cook together and watch scary movies. the cat on my lap. taking the tram in the dark. your favourite song in the shower. I wash my face and boil the kettle. melting chocolate. remembering the weight of your body on mine. when we would glow and open for each other. your breath and my name when you claimed it. the thought of dying in your eyes. still reaching in my sleep. an openness that closes. a freedom to care without limit. the sting of moisturised tears.