October 31, 2014 by Wayne.
and by the third sorry, we’d been through a month of
Oh yeah, I should add:
I know I said it’d be better to be let down this way,
rather than not having seen you at all,
but it’s hard to quantify this “better” thing
Certainly not sure what this is supposed to
feel better than
You’ll recede from the immediacy of humiliation and
take your fucking red lipstick and one-words with you
your obdurate determination to –
Nah, you’re right, I can’t do this right now
not when every other thought is – not exactly a thought
of you, but one about you at least, which
if we’re really being honest, like honesty is some sort
of ideal we should aspire to, but if we are anyway,
maybe that possibly means I’m projecting?
Fuck the night.
The sun sneaks away while
we throw thoughts elsewhere
restless and discontent
And now the petals of dark
filter through the townlight haze
brush against sweat on your brow
gather and flap away on crow wings
masses perched on relaxed wires
Daytime isn’t any better. I wait for you, walk through rows of bent metal frames, photos of crying clouds, bronzed faces against blue-green walls, the decay of the town, and checking for a call or a message or something, the air is hot from the glare of the swiveling spotlights, and just giveme somefucking space, christ, i’ll wait downstairs
Nat reckons I should take it down a notch
Less of the blind fumbling towards terrible love
Less of miss misery, too, which isn’t
bad advice, per se
I just have nothing much new to say –
I miss you.
That’s all, really.
Maybe you should just wait, man.
We’ve all the time we need.