As a habit, you’re hard to kick
Just as a habit, you’re so hard to kick; The addiction grew on me to quickly to hide. It all came so fast, just like the Spring tide Of that Summer down south that we spent being sick. Too much drink, too much sun, and I thought I would die With the unjust unfairness of being a girl. My body in turmoil, my head in a whirl, I wanted to own you, I wanted to die. I think I could love you, I do feel your lack. Your absence a joke – the punchline is me. I could show you your dreams, I could love you for free; I’d whisper your name and you’d whisper mine back. I’m broken, I’m...
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When I walk through a supermarket at your side And I see all the mothers with children inside, Then I wish I was able to carry your child; To bear that most precious part of you inside. I tell you of friends who spent six months indoors To hide their grown stomachs. You smile and nod As if twelve and pregnant were nothing too odd. (My child should have that great stillness of yours.) I think: what colour eyes? What colour of hair? I see arms, I see legs, I see fingers and toes. I see skin soft as silk, but inside I know That I’m building dreams based on nothing but air - Unless I bear a...
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