What if we ended it today?

We would we ever have a picnic again

and spill our cans on the uneven floor

of Victoria park.

We would never sit and sweat

and wonder listlessly about dinner.

Never indulge each other’s petty dismay,

balk together at the everyday,

laugh at the inane,

share a trove of arcane whims

and douse each other in the sticky,

the sickly, the sublime and the sour.


There’ll be no one to guide to me to the toilets

or through a menu,

I’d never be entranced at your dancing top lip

or when you build a fire.


What happens when you don’t realise I’m ignoring you,

or I feel the need to stop deploring you,

if your green eyes cease to be the cosmos?


And my book collection would half,

I’ll stop being so shy,

and I’ll never know that stillness,

buttressed, on your chest, circling the tufts of hair

as my other hand paws your flexing arm

as you scroll down the page.

My decisions would be my own,

my downfall my own,

there would be no more interims between you and I,

no next times, no resolves.


We’d never see the islands of Croatia,

never be stranded for poor planning,

never while the waiting away by

sharing stories of how we live and how we see.


Will we never, finally, meet the sea together?

Will it be like that time at the ponds on the Heath?

I read restlessly, waiting to see

you emerge in the silver briefs.


I’d always be waiting,

immersed in grief.

Edited: 27 April 2014




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s