SOLUTIONS

SOLUTIONS

5pm lashes. Because he didn't care. So nor do I.
Getting completely ratted, because there's only so many times you can look over past photos before going crazy.
I'd like my dreams to go back to non - mental moments. Not a set of scenes of Shakespearean clad actors and actresses mauling each other to pieces, and leave one another in wrecks of ribbons.

I missed you.

I still miss you.

We went out at 6th form, and first year, until you told me you wanted to sleep with other people. Because that's what freshers do.

So I went away and found someone else. He was lovely, beautiful, clever and romantic. Took me to dinner and balls and on holiday. Held my hand and showed me off like the wife he's destined to have. But he wasn't you.

And you invited me to Newcastle and we clicked again and again. And you slipped your fingers in between mine like they'd spent 2 years doing. And I didn't want to let go.

And I hate that the Cathedral that greats me on my way back from your stupid city is just a cold welcome of work. But it's kinder than your words were.

So tonight, I choose wine. And weed. And a fuck load of ice cream.

And then tomorrow, or maybe next week, I'll get back on the horse. But right now, I feel about as big as the length of time you reminded me you'd spent deliberating over what I'd told you. That I still wanted you, after 2 years. 5 fucking minutes.

So tonight, I'm dwelling. And taking a glass of milk to bed.