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Holiday Romance
I had fell in love with Holland
Or,at least,a part of it.
There it lay,mapped out on the bed-
The terrain I had become familiar with.
It was the best sightseeing I had ever done;
Five days fucking on a damp Dutch mattress.
All his mounds and paths and crevices
Made a brown picturesque landscape.
I wanted to lay myself down there
More than in any of England's green pastures.
But I felt overcome.By something stronger than love.
Culture and countries barbed the way.
Lips on his trunk,I graffited my name in saliva
And watched it dry,wondering how long its traces might stay.
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Love Bulimia
The poets got it all wrong.
Love is savoury,not sweet;
Morish like a packet of pringles.
I've been on a diet for months
But tonight I need a fix.
I know where the box is kept
To open in case of emergency.
The smell of memories rises like warm bread.
Let me tear through the hard brown crust
And eat up the soft times inside;
Gorge on photos,savour scribbled words,
Nibble on crumbs of the past.
Feel full for an hour or so,
Then vomit and resume the fast.
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Reunion
You have decided to let me in
At last.I am in your flat.
In your life.Bright flesh
Replacing yellowed paper memories.
We sit like at an interview;
Formal chairs,fact,no opinions.
How strange-I used to touch you,
Smother you with tears and tongue.
But in this place I don't belong.
Sharing coffee from cups I didn't buy:
There's not a whisper of me here.
Words written and spoken so clear,
All those times we thought would last forever
Have been whitewashed or put in a box.
I cant,I cant look at you anymore.
Lips quiver,salty tides wreck a painted face.
You used to love to see me cry.
And then I spy in a saucer of junk
The final sting,like a raw onion;
A piece of a jigsaw-we both had one.
Treasured in our wallets,it was us;
We had found eachothers missing piece.
At eighteen,we were complete.
Now,at twenty three,it's just me,
An unknown man and a splinter of wood.
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