the last time we met

it was barely dawn and the light from the High street transformed the buildings from muted grey to brilliant gold. and i was lost again. in your eyes – deep and dark like perfectly polished stones. like a novel i’d never read. a sleep induced vision until you covered me in your almond skin. and i drank from the cup of your soul like warm black coffee. heavy loaded sips that burned the back of my throat. knowing that vanishing was all we knew how to do. after we two parted – the memory of you remained like a bitter taste in my mouth. what’s left, sometimes, to remind us of reality.


he’s written to say he’s going back. without me. that every street light’s a reminder. and i’m not entirely sure if he means -- here or there. but I’ll miss him. and distant thoughts of university and summer time in England.