On Reflection, Love

You weren’t funny,
I had never smoked a cigarette,
But the way we hung out together,
It looked like we chained it. Regular destructive couple. Kurt and Courtney.
But wasted as human beings, with no talent.

I spoke French better,
I sounded hotter to my English friends back home
And even my French teacher was jealous of my accent
Because I happened to do better than her at A Level French.
But I never happened to do better than you at the time.

I had wit,
I had dreams bagged in my suitcase every time I stepped on a plane to see you,
And I reckon for every prayer I made wishing we’d tie the knot,
Another lovesick girl somewhere in the world plunged a knife into her gut,
Another lovesick boy somewhere in the world held a gun to his head and it leaned on him like a friend.

I leaned on you like a friend. Your shoulder, or God’s step I used to say,
Somewhere in the depths of sky I died throwing my heart on you,
You cried afterwards when I heard of your first affair,
Begged for my fingers and my hands and my eyes to run through your hair, your body, your face.
Tonight I stand alone,

And you know I could always shrug it off, the second or the third time,
Took the piss out of it and it was okay
Its a pity I started to write poetry because of you,
But everybody mends a broken heart differently,
Somehow you were dragging the foetus out of me,

Something that I wanted to keep,
It wasn’t just any foetus,
It was twins, it was us.
With the rest of our bodies to come, to expand,
We hadn’t grown into the wedding clothes we’d stitched for ourselves

But you had a sick sense of humour,
And you threaded the knife through my womb and we were gone.
I’ve never known how much I wasted on you
But the years I spent every cell in my body believing in our life together
It all fell away, and I suppose it did not matter to you,

It never did.

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