The Avenues

Grey lethargy.
Alone.
Again.

This muggy summer evening,
even the sky has stopped.

Today offered no hope.

Here:
Your bed.
Your books.
Your clothes.
Your window.
Your room.
Your friends.
Your house.
Your street,

in the same old city,
but I’m a stranger here now.

I wait for you.

*****

I think:
I used to be so innocent.
I used to be so naive.

All long gone.
Your scorched earth skills
have seen to that.
Still,
I want to get back there.

You let me into your body,
I let you into my mind.

Slow toxin.
You infected me with need,
paranoia and pleas.

You loved me once.
I know it,
you showed it,
couldn’t hide it.

But now,
this:

When we’re together, we’re apart.
We stare at each other
from opposite horizons.

You’ve built barriers,
borders,
barbed wire
between us.

I embarrass you.
You regret me,
you’d forget me -
if you could.

I see there’s no way back.
All gone -
dissolved in a year.

You have nothing to say to me.
Do you pity me?
Why am I even here?

*****

Still waiting.
You’re with HIM.

I listen to Wish.
Light fades into night.

I drink -
to remember,
to regret.

Nausea – my reliable friend.
Dry heave.
Pathetic.
I can’t even vomit this poison out.
The sickness will stay within.
Curdling, rancid, burning.

*****

Finally, you return.

You tell me tales of psychic mess;
invisible violence in the attic;
visions from the other side.

I wonder:
should we take out the ouija board?
Hold a séance?
Invite your friends,
hold hands and
speak to the dead?
Your damage disturbs me.

But I’d do anything to be closer to you.

We fuck.
One last time.

You experiment with me, distracted.
Something new,
like you’re trying hard to stay interested,
like you want to forget.

Your second thoughts come too late.
I hear them, though:
No-one must know
you’ve been in bed with me.

I’ll be on my way home soon:
heart-hurt, betrayed.
There’s nothing here but emptiness.
Surely, I know this is the end?

And yet, and yet.

Aldeburgh Beach

Scars