Last night, I thought I was bereft, but then I remembered that I get monthly cheques, for the damage you left, so I got a bottle of vodka, and got the fuck on with it. Some day, you’ll just be a song, on a compilation album, a poem I perform, in the cities we might…

I have taken some photos that are on a man’s phone which i was saving for true love that never arrived Forgive me they may leak but they are delicious so sweet and he is so cold.

I thought I might drink myself to death, and see where that got me, maybe you’d come back, racked with regret, if there was nothing, nobody to come back to. I told you I loved you, with an honest smile, so many times, that it just became a habit, a reflex, intuitively inserting itself into…

I knew it would hurt, just another scar, I guess. You promised. Always. You promised always, and I wanted to believe, so, alas, I did.