Yours Truly, x: February 2010

I’m not sure how to introduce these, perhaps they need no introduction?

I just chose a few from what I’ve been writing over the last few months.

I love writing but I hate what I write.

“And all around us the house was alive. The stairs creaked and the clock echoed out the seconds passing in the abandoned midnight hallway. I stirred from slumber and cradled my arm around your neck. Stroking my wrist and planting a single affectionate kiss my forehead, you whispered softly ‘It’s ok, go back to sleep’.

You later told me that you didn’t get a single wink of sleep that night; you were too consumed by my presence. My soft steady breath on your neck, the momentary twitches of my eyebrows as I dreamt, and those wondrous moments, when half asleep I would ask you for a sip of water, or to move the blanket.

Now months later I have to shut my eyes to remember the sound of your whisper, or the angle our bodies lay, with twisted limbs and faces millimetres apart. I struggle to remember the constellation of freckles on your nose, or the exact band on the t-shirt you were wearing.”

“It always amused you to see me talking to someone whom I would rather avoid. You took great pleasure in reading the little twitches at the side of my mouth, or the look of quiet desperation as I feigned interest to the monotonous stories I was being fed.

I would return the favour in watching you deal with people who loved your music. They would crowd around you in shrill waves of approbation. I liked to watch the way you moved your head, so that your hair shielded you from their adoring eyes, or to hear dismissive murmurs escaping from your quiet little mouth.”

“We used to lie a beaten-up mattress on the floor, in your attic bedroom. We would look at the midnight blue out of your skylight window as incense smoke swirled towards the ceiling in curling, twisting streams. I used to wear your football shirt when I went to make cups of tea downstairs. You always said, me wearing that silly shirt was the best thing your rubbish seaside team had ever achieved.

We would talk for hours about insignificant things as couples do. Whenever you disagreed you would start your sentence with ‘Yeah but’ and then continue to tirade your point.

You had a stud in your tongue, a pierced lip, and wore a lucky charms plastic watch everyday.

I liked the fact that nothing was ever serious with you. Every aspect of life could be frivolous and innocent.

We haven’t spoken for years. I passed you once in a pub in our hometown, but we only recognised each other when it was too late, and both glimpsed back.

I hear you’re married now, with a baby too.

Making you a person who is worlds away from the one I knew.”

“When you served me ice cream you would always give me an extra scoop of chocolate because you knew it was my favourite flavour. Playfully you would tease me that my favourite flavour was so boring, when other more exotic choices were available for me to explore.

‘But I like the chocolate’ was the only defence I could ever muster.

You had short hair with the remains of highlights on the very tips, and a little braid from your nape, tied roughly at the end with a little blue elastic band. I liked you instantly because you could make me laugh until fat tears rolled down my flushed cheeks.”

“As we lay in the deception of the night before, you traced your index finger over the purplish blue swell on my bare thigh, whilst your breath lilted softly on my neck.

Coming and going like the eager tide laps the shore of a coastal town, with a longing hunger that would, that morning, remain unfed.”


Yours Truly, x