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You’ve got to stop fucking her
up. You’ve got to grow up. You’ve got to stop
making her cry – she thinks you want to and you know
she’s right. You’re showing a side that you don’t
like. You’ve got to trust what she feels is there and
not need to see it. You’ve got to let her do what she
wants with this secret. You’ve got to say sorry, then
not undo it. You’ve got to let go – if not in
your heart then in what you show and in what you start.
If you love her like you say, you won’t do again what
you did today – she wouldn’t even let you brush
a tear away. You won’t push and push until she breaks.
It cannot be, and you’ve got to accept it. Stop being
so weak. Stop being so selfish. You can want all you like,
still you won’t be getting. When she said you were
cruel, boy, she wasn’t kidding. No matter how fierce
the flames may be you’ve got to keep your feelings
under lock and key. The last thing you want is to feel her
withdraw. Do yourself a favour: start thinking of her.
Tears flowing down the line –
I listened as you cried. The world had come down to two
people in two rooms. Now and then I’d hear the smallest
voice. I know I wasn’t strong. I know I had a choice.
Though you try to tell me otherwise, it’s shining out
of you, it’s in your eyes – open them wide. This
is special and you know it too – we say we differ,
but do you think we do? What more would you like? I understand
and then... then again, I don’t; while part of me does,
part of me won’t. When we see a chance to be loved
who knows what we’re capable of? Every story tells
me this would last. You make my heart beat twice as fast.
I see that girl who only wants to daydream. As if we’re
going to lose what we have found. You won’t be so easy
to be around. I’m lost in you but you won’t be
losing me. I’ll fight it soon – but not now, please,
not just yet, please.
These are haunted days; bonfire-scented
autumn days. Someone’s slipped away, and someone’s
thoughts are all in one place. These are haunted days; the
year is facing its old age. I met her from work at three
to see her home so she could catch some sleep. Everything’s
a little... everything’s a little... thrown. I watched
her cry for someone I didn’t know. You can sense it
on the wind, the wind that sets the trees to singing –
hear them whispering how someone’s gone, someone’s
missing. These are haunted days, sad and golden, underplayed.
I met her on Oxford Street to see her home so she could
catch some sleep. These are haunted days; bonfire-scented
autumn days. You can’t fix everything that breaks,
and someone’s thoughts are all in one place.
Someone stop the hands of time –
every tick’s a cruel blow. I want a world that’s
hers and mine while the real one’s put on hold. I want
to taste the freedom we will never know. Someone stop the
hands of time – every tick’s a cruel blow. I don’t
want to step outside into the night beyond the windows,
I’m just not ready yet for the ice-cold air to bring
it all home. All I want is to be held and held some more
and not let go, be told that all is well, that our racing
hearts will cope. I want her to lie to me – it’s
not as if I will not know. All I want is to be held and
held some more and not let go. The less I have to lose,
it seems, the more I put her through. We go round in circles,
and that is all we do; that there’s nothing we can
say, we don’t let get in the way – we go round
in circles because we want to be here all day.
I thought that I could hear it in
her voice – was almost certain something was beginning.
Though we don’t talk about it, though this should not
be happening, we just keep on tumbling. Let us dream a while,
until the dream gets broken. Dream a little longer. I know
that she can’t be mine, still I’m loving every
minute; it’s like I’ve always known her. I’m
not thinking clearly – all I’m seeing is how we
fit; I just love being with her. We’re not thinking
anything could come of these feelings, they can’t lead
anywhere, and we know; we’re not thinking anything
could come of these feelings, we’re just not letting
go. And we know we’ll have to do so, but we don’t
want to yet though – there’s plenty of time for
that later. And we know that we’re in trouble, and
we know we’ll end up hurt here, and want to be together.
Got a postcard from her: St. Paul’s
Cathedral At Night. Spent a couple of days trying to read
between the lines: now I don’t have to read between
the lines. Talking in an empty cinema, walking back through
Parliament Square. St.James’s Park at Christmas-time:
glimpsing the lake through the evening lights. I didn’t
want there to come an end to our time. I know I’m in
no position to miss her, shouldn’t hold her so close
when she goes; still I wonder what she was thinking as she
travelled home.
The ghost of an unkissed kiss, a
field of snow without footprints – it’ll always
be perfect, but we didn’t get to live it. The lights
that shone for us across the water through the misty dusk
– it’ll always be perfect, but we didn’t
get to live it. These lonely places were touched by love
– dust for the traces and they’ll show up. These
are the words we’ll pack away; these are the feelings
that will stay. Dry eyes – it was never going to end
with dry eyes. We’ll never know what we let go. How
do you push aside something that just feels so right? It’ll
always be perfect, but we didn’t get to live it. We
found what so many seek but it was never ours to keep –
it’ll always be perfect, but we didn’t get to
live it. I know how unfair I’ve been on her, that I
could have made it easier – but I wanted her so bad,
you see, I just wouldn’t stop at anything. Wrong as
it was to do, those eyes were made to look into – it’ll
always be perfect, but we didn’t get to live it. So
I would just do wrong until the ache became too strong –
it’ll always be perfect, but we didn’t get to
live it.
So did we ever want the same things?
You want a love you could live without. Maybe after all
we’re on different wavelengths. Something’s just
eluding me, somehow. But to have an opinion is fraught with
danger – could you ever believe there’s no hidden
agenda with me? Applying the brakes may well protect you;
boundaries in place will keep a heart safe. But I think
love should come with madness, that there is no road you
should not take. Surviving isn’t everything: I’d
rather drown than not dive in. But what does it matter what
I think? Why should I have to understand? What gives me
the right to judge you? And what do I know anyway –
didn’t you always say I don’t live in the real
world?
So we’ll just be the greatest
couple that never were – and I won’t think we
stand a chance if we never did. If you’ve never been
mine, then I guess I can’t be losing you: so everything’s
all right – your heart’s not breaking, and I don’t
feel as I do. I know you’re suffering – I put
trouble where there wasn’t any. I know what I’ve
done; you know I take your words for use as ammunition.
But I do it because I’m scared and searching for ways
that lead to you. And I do it because we’re in love
and it’s obvious. It’s the rest of our lives –
that’s all you’re making a difference to. And
it’s the rest of our lives I watch unfolding when I
know I shouldn’t do.
Missing you tonight has made it clear
to me. I thought we’d end up together – I never
said I’d a head on my shoulders. I close my eyes and
you’re there for me: I breathe you in, I let you reach
me, let you travel through me. I can’t undo whatever
you’ve woven; I’m just living from moment to moment
with your beauty tucked up inside me. How can you argue
with what happens when our eyes meet, the spot we hit, the
way we leave each other hungry? How can you argue with the
way we’re haunted? How can you argue with what happens
when our eyes meet, the little shooting stars triggered
in our bellies? How can you argue with the little gunshots?
How can you argue with what happens when our eyes meet,
the spot we hit, the way we leave each other hungry? How
can you argue with... you and me? You’re waving from
a leaving train and every part of me screams your name:
think again, please, think again.
m.b.s.
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