i was good at things;
like going to school and making my parents proud
you were good at things;
like kissing my neck in a drunken daze
and holding my hand behind everyones back
i think i loved you and that is why i began to hate you
i was never good at hurting people
until i was hurt by you

a boy waiting patiently at the train station
he lights up a cigarette
can't smell the flowers in his hand
over the smell of petrol

i don't remember what happened
when i saw you
arms stretched, bodies entwined
happy tears, nose kisses

i never did meet you at that station
but if i did
i would still be locked in your kiss

i remember when you would beg me to read to you
in the early hours of the morning
when conversation had kept us awake
i could tell you were smiling by the sound of your exhales
although my eyes never moved from the words on the page before me.
we would make love
until you were too tired to finish a whispered 'goodnight'
i would follow you into dreams
my last and first thoughts always of happiness

this was a long time ago
before i left you, before you left me

that's the thing with love;
it changes
it begins like a fire
embers and smoke
until it's Winter
you're alone
and the smell of ash is making you remember
everything you wish you could forget

mid-day showers
i'm grooming myself for another girl
as sweet as fourth of july pie
but i always preferred the fireworks
now you're a notion in my head
a hologram of scenarios that never even occurred
i haven't cried in twelve months
or wrote a poem since april
but still when i put pen to paper
the words have your taste all over them

hangovers last so much longer
the flu goes on for weeks
high blood pressure causes migranes
the night drags on like primary school
the day stings my eyes
i have washed my pillow eleven times
yet your scent still likes to stay
smoking hurts my throat
no one argues with me to quit
music sounds off key
books are no good
poems make my head throb
other peoples conversations bore me
i'm always alone

i am finally understanding
that you are never
ever
ever
coming back to me

you're in my veins and i can not get you out
you're all i taste at night inside of my mouth
you run away because i am not what you found*

i miss not knowing what your favourite song is right now
if i did i would memorise every word as i fall asleep tonight
i miss not knowing what you're reading so i can ask about the characters and watch your lips move as you speak
i miss your body
having it to hold
whether i'm too hot or cold
i miss your shallow collar bones
and drowning inside of your eyes
i'm trying so hard to forget
i'm thinking i never will
at times i don't want to
sometimes i think i could be happy with you living inside my head forever
but memories fade
the way you faded from my arms
and i feel more alone than ever without you to wish me goodnight or make me eat breakfast in the morning

i no longer get drunk under the sun
in public parks where children play
talk to girls who get on their knees for fun
and fight boys who are more broken than me
i grew up in a city
with too many faces
for any one person to stand out
you grew among fields
and still to this day
i'm tortured searching for your face in the crowd

"In sadder stories, they say,
                   we were never meant to be.

You see, I only knew you by your voice:
it's unexpected lilt,
 the promise of life,
the murmur of the sea.

Your mouth formed half-crescents
and little 'O's,
as if the vowels were
        bubbles being blown.

Or at least that's what I imagined.

The sea had gotten at my eyes, my mouth.
I couldn't see or speak.

The same cruel sea that had
ravaged me,
 spat me out and then  taken you away from me.

But I remembered your voice.

It was like my soul was a lute,
your voice plucking out notes of love.
Notes of love that reverberated in my ears
and in the hollow space of my heart
that had never before
felt anything
so sweet.

I remember."