What This Is

A whisper before midnight, you unlatch the dirty, white gate, and there he is, ducklinghouselight framing him, arms and smile wide. You throw down your umbrella and fold yourself into his arms. Your mind smiles when you realise that this is the first time you’ve come home to him after a night out. Only 37 days but already your lives are entwined like lovers’ limbs. You are doubtlessly together. The doubtlessness is sexy. He strokes your hair and cooks for two and says thank you. All day long he tells you you’re beautiful. You warm his side of the bed and say things like herebabytrythisyoulllikeit and he does. You say you are a good, beautiful man, and he says, only because I’m with you. And you aren’t thinking finally or what’shappeningwhatisthis, you just sigh and let the future melt while you are here with him today. Because you know what this is.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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