She lay between two duvets.
Legs still tacky from last night's
alcohol-sweat.
Ever tried to forget that she's up there
with her man
in the double bed above yours
in the arms of someone
unlike you?
She has a tissue in her hand
and her cheeks are wet.
She pressed music into her ears.
Volume still too loud from the afternoon's
escape-dancing.
It's hard to forget that you're resting
best as you can
in a double bed that's "spare"
borrowed from someone
but not yours.
She has a tendency to ignore it
and save it for later.
She watched the paint swirls on the ceiling.
Palms still raw from the evening's
emotion-restraint.
Think it's time to forget you're labelled
selfinflicted
in a double bed half empty
lacking that someone
all yours
?
About Me
- Blue Bird
- Isn't this what the blogging's for..? I write. I draw. I listen to music... alot. I have an obsession with the colour blue and any type of glass. If Orion or Cassiopeia or The Plough or the Seven Sisters were visible in the night sky I could point them out to you, and probably would, but I couldn't tell you if Jupiter was that bright star on the horizon or if Venus can only be seen in the morning, however much I'd like to be able to. My obsessions spread over to photos too - those small physical snapshots of memories to shake and reawaken feelings in your mind. I try recreate that with my writing, but don't often succeed - it's a harder task than it sounds. I find this is partly because I don't write enough... hence the reason I'm here, speaking my thoughts to a distinct lack of reader. It's all good.
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