WRITTEN WHILST WE WERE "ON A BREAK" AND I QUICKLY REALISED
by Amy Britton
Text messages - not usually the most
Articulacy promoting means of communication
Swapped in the dead of night
Made your physicality spring to mind.
Details. Your hazel brown eyes, soft and
Wide. Your very pale skin.
Your height. That slightly shambolic
Walk. Constantly scratching your head,
Ruffling your hair. Smoking with
A hand behind your back. That
Very deceptive innocence on your face, not
To be outdone by that air
Of shambolica. And your words built
Under clouds mean you could dream Xanadu
Too. You asked me to write
With you - I refused, with fear
Of inferiority in the shadow of your
Vast talent, command of language.
I worry in retrospect I was the
Eternal postman interrupting your dreams, thought
I knew the wrong way to be.
If there is a wrong way to be
It is not you. When yuo are not there I
Relentlessly defend you, put
Up my dukes to anyone who ever
Said a word against you - shame on
Them and there never ending ignorance
Sometimes I envy your values.
A bohemian libertine, whose words I let go.