Wallpaper

You had come to help my mother move house.

We were pretending that you were just a friend,

because it’s hard to explain the desperation of your separation,

when you’re separating someone else’s whole life apart,

to pack into neat boxes,

where nothing is complicated.

We said we’d save it for dinner,

we’d tell her about us over dinner,

a far away dinner,

that we don’t have to think about,

so,

for now,

every now and then,

we’d sneak off.

img_0046

You were a rushed but romantic whirlwind,

on my childhood bed.

A tender tornado

taking my mind off all the anxious thrill of moving on.

I was ignoring my ex,

in my pocket,

his texts,

jealous green,

ran up my screen,

across a picture of us,

that we had taken at Westminster Bridge,

where your hands had softly asked my waist

“Fuirich còmhla rium?”

and I understood

your hands were as sweet and sentimental

as the rest of you.

img_0044

I wasn’t sure why,

almost feeling envious of the way you could look at me,

and see somebody you wanted to be close to.

It was that day,

on Westminster bridge,

where the wind seemed to pull us together,

giving your well spoken hands exciting ideas,

that I decided I would look at that picture every day,

keeping you on my screen,

so close,

that I could almost hear your soft whisper

every morning that I awoke without your hands,

and their exotic accent (well, it’s exotic in Kent).

img_0045

So,

all that being said,

you can imagine how annoying it became,

to see someone running up and down the happy memories I was trying to make.

I couldn’t even remember how his hands sounded,

and I certainly didn’t care,

so I put my phone in my pocket,

pretending that we were in a place with no reception,

so I could be received by the safe span of your arms.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?
Notes To My Muse

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

Podcast
Spotify

YouTube

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: