I don’t hate the cold weather anymore
I find it like a nosey friend prying their way into your business
brisk winds become curious finger tips
persistent,
persistent.
you pretend to hate it
but really you’re just glad someone noticed you’re there.
like a nosey friend who cares,
or so I imagine that’s what it’s like.
It’s not your fault it’s mine
for this situation we find ourselves in
I saw coming,
I knew.
you don’t know that I did, but I did.
I played stupid and you’ve forgiven me
I hate myself for it,
a part of me wishes you did to.
we’re pretending like nothing happened now
but I’ve not seen you yet
and this dance has me uneasy.
I shouldn’t have done what I did,
that was bad.
and you shouldn’t have swallowed all those pills,
that was bad.
I fucked it but you’re still beautiful,
though slightly tarnished now
all because I fucked it,
and that
was bad.
my father and I never have much to say
he’s not a sharer and I am my fathers son
what would I say?
help?
don’t be ridicules.
our dead mothers bound us
cancer
hollower of souls
but creator of friendships,
who’d of known.
for when witness to such a slow death
it instills a certain black humour in you’re bones
and an undercurrent feeling of pointlessness of effort.
these things
creator of friendships
these fleeting connections have me ragged
wine helps,
wine helps
but I’m only what Iv’e planned to be
distant decisions of cowardly intent
“don’t get too close, just fuck and move on”
“just fuck”
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