i've had images of torbay or st heliers in my sleep where
i buried my feet deep in the sand of a now nameless beach.
and i asked you in helpless whispers to come home to me, please, but the church bells stopped
ringing the moment you shut the door. you and i peeling mandarins in front of the city church.
kissing on the bench.
the world was so small, it was just us: some kids singing on the last bus back to the city, high as shit,
a brewing lover's spat, one-sided anger.
you were in my dreams, brought me to my knees,
a man machine-breathing, a hill over the horizon rising and breaking, my homeland
monsoon made me so unforgiving in december that i've always brought an angry man into
the firsts of each year.
he's been around as long as i can remember.
i couldn't bring you the thrills that you seek out for as much as your phone
never works when it comes to me. dial tones and a sweet ring of a "merry christmas" text far too late.
a summer fling that never had me. i was gone.
listened to big thief's paul on repeat the whole ride home and tasting the metallic blood on
my tongue, grieving or savouring, never accepting, the fact
that you packed your bags. all i knew when i got off the bus
it was time, time was up
i've gotta pack mine up as well.
and that's just what i did.
the only thing stuck with me was when you said pretty girls are never lonely, which
you cursed me to be.
never lonely, or you must've meant never alone.
you gave my summers some meaning, it wasn't the greatest not even the worst, at best, it's painfully mediocre.
but it was all i've ever asked for. that i could love on my own terms.
i was selfish and demanding and left on my own terms. this love was freeing.
you weren't out to cause me pain, but what is there to say when
it was all i felt in the end.
my beloved,
i religiously believed that you'd take me any way i came or went, and
honest to god,
that's a one-way street i'd hate to stroll down and get stuck in.
the sunny blues.
