Eros & Philia

The city lights conspiring to hide
the cold shimmer of starlight from our eyes;
walks together: a flower & it’s thorns,
sharing our thoughts,
secrets, fears & feelings,

each the other’s mirror
using silk to remove any marks that
prevented us from seeing clearly &
the resulting electrostatic charge
binding us together.

All of this
& more
is a gift,

& every poem I give you
is an attempt to make amends
for being no more than
                   an unremarkable,

A dream I think I once had

You smoked a cigarette beside me
in the passenger seat of my car
in the dark, in the park one night

a lifetime ago.
You said: “We are born,
we do stuff
& then we die.

That’s all…

I wish I could, but
I just can’t make myself care
that much anymore…”

Spectral blue curls billowed out
from between the clumsy teeth inside
of your beautiful mouth,
& attempted to dance with those lengths
of false-coloured hair
you absently caressed.

You had an affinity for dysfunction,
you told me:

“I thrive among the broken things”
& I remember thinking
that it was fucked-up
how much I wished I was more fucked-up
than I already was.
I wanted too much:

I wanted your love.

Nothing else seemed important,
not the the future, not improvement,
not hope
or the vast tracts of free & unfettered time
that lay before us.

I drove you home.

Nothing much had happened
yet somehow it still felt significant.

After you had left me, as
I sat staring into the darkness,
the smell of smoke & your presence

& I was overcome
by sensation so intense,
that all that has followed since

feels like dull disappointment…


(This story is fiction, only the stories that composed it are true)