Melange/pad in pocket

Forget me not not knots

find their wicked ways into my spine...

crack my back. I wish to see you clearly.

The day before yesterday. Leaning up against the counter.

Before I commit to paper

let me think a little.

I am no longer a girl

but not very yet a woman.

How do I measure myself today?

Where do I stand?

In a corner, patiently, waiting for the wind to calm,

or in the middle

watching

for you

as you emerge

from my waiting

with unforseen

gestures

previously reserved

for the last you loved.

No question marks. 

Today. Up some stairs. Comfortable chair. Half lit.

1.

Come to mine, my home.

I'll make you tarte au citron (serves 6-8, so we'll have more for later).

Dont get this wrong.

I don't want us in my bed- your body wedged against mine.

No

none of that.

I'm happy enough and eager

to listen to you make sounds with your mouth

talk about your first pet

your favourite day of the week.

                                                   We've got our whole lives

to take each others

clothes off.

Don't frown,

you know what you want-

what you want is Love.

2.

The last few days

I've become adept

at sitting in cafes

 still

in my seat.

Papers and books and difficult tea.

My headphones have made a habitat

of my head.

I hardly care

what I might miss-

what she said

to him

on the table to the left

as he dropped the cup on the way

to her lap.

I'm thinking, listening

only to you.

Sorry to break the news.

 Dark, silly, unagreeable

you.

Distant stranger.

Don't know you at all.

I met you, and could not take my eyes off your

teeth.

Slightly imperfect, the tips of them milky transparent.

Later on, I suprised myself at the beauty

I found in 

kissing your wrinkles.

You closed your eyes,

those lines trailing softly

the corners. I kissed you

there.

Lovely lines.

Want to kiss them again.

I better       get going

before I get

lost

     again

for the n'th time

today

...

Sinking ships, beautiful wrecks.