Come exist with me
in a shared space,
some new place.
I can picture four walls and floorboards
on which we’re forever sitting,
I see us rolling cigarettes and strolling late nights,
lit by the streetlamp light,
let’s away with space and time
the way it trundles on.
I would happily lie in lace underwear
and tangled sheets
with my crown of tangled hair
for days and days.
Chaise longue loungers, we’ll be luxurious,
with all my clothes in piles holding up the ceiling.
Every single pair of tights that I own has a hole in them.
But you don’t mind that I’m messy
and I don’t mind that you nap in the day time
not even a bit.
I can hold your pulse in my hand like a paper cut.
A quiet body, discreetly beating.
Blue duvet becomes sea bed,
each inhale hailing the sails on ships
and gently rocking the boats tied down at harbour
by your feet.
I could spin off cliches at the speed of lightning about love
but there would always be one more thing I’d want to say.
I feel the poetry in every moment anyway.
We wouldn’t have to be in the same room all the time.
We’ll be flotsum after a shipwreck
and float freely.
Sometimes we’ll brush and spin off in ripples
to the kitchen, the sofa,
the corner shop.
And I promise that I’ll be inspired.
I’ll be so full of ideas you won’t know what to do with me.
They’ll be flooding from me
on to every available piece of paper.
I’ll write a book on every beer matt
and draw on all the walls.
I crave the bravery of before
when my pen was the sword
and I slashed canvases and slammed doors
and it didn’t really matter what I said,
It all feels terribly important now.
You are important.
They make me go to the dentist by myself now
and I can’t take sick days
to lie in bed to hide from life like I like to.
But come exist with me
and I will mend my pen
and make tea for you when you need it,
make do when you don’t.
I’ll find every constellation
hidden in the freckles on your skin
and dive for pearls in your spiracles,
the clink of empty oyster shells
lost in your steady swells and sways.
We’ll lie in bed for days and days and days.