Ten across;
not loyalty, faithfulness
or constancy.
Took nothing with me
when the game was over
we all lost,
it was all unfair.
all that’s left of you
and me, in an empty corner,
is an ugly scar:
only fibres of ligaments,
bulging tubes of stiff keloids
etched on my skin
pulsating in the hot dark
dishonesty on my lips, eyelids
fingertips –
I left,
at the beginning of autumn
Past dirty colours made with furtive kisses &
the cherry blossom
You
, leaning against it kicking the dead buds me
not turning around.
only coffee is real 