Before you Go

A poem sketched out on my phone, as I walked from my old flat for the last time. We were evicted for complaining too much about the state of the place; the landlord got tired of our emails.

All things move towards their end. Even love, and a happy home. This was the killing stroke, to a relationship that had surmounted so much turmoil before. That last night, we sat on the carpet staring at one another, unable to comprehend how we’d lost so much in the space of barely five months. Worse was to come, but I don’t need to tell you about the rest. Suffice to say, our love couldn’t last, for the simple fact that I no longer knew how to comfort him … and couldn’t find it in my heart to try. We had become best friends rather than lovers, and though he’ll always be a part of me, I now walk alone.

But for the time we were together, when our love saw us through more than anorexia and the Dole and spending weeks apart, with a long distance relationship that somehow blossomed into something beyond a computer screen and handfuls of emails … I was as blissfully happy as any girl could be. No one would riot for less.

That little flat was our first, and last.

Before you Go

In palest pearl light

I’ll bolt awake

The echoing walls

Are loud, of late

 

No picture to hem

That fragile sound

So clutch at the sheet

Now eyes, you drown.

 

The saying Goodbye

Is harder still

With hands at my back

No time to feel.

 

So dry up the eyes

Loosen the hand…

The future it waits

To rise, to stand.

 

And when they arrive

To take the key

I’ll give up my home –

The future is Me.

 

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