Packing a bag full of clothes I won't want to wear. I do this every time and I never learn.
Are you allowed a nail file in your hand luggage? Last time I travelled by air they took my tube of handcream at the security check. It made me sad.
2010-05-09
The Star Was Bright And It Was You
There was a time when we were lovers. There was a time, when I would call you late at night and you'd come round, your last tenner on the cab, a once when you'd light all the candles in my room and it was like a dream, walking in there. With all those candles lit and flickering and the high street sounds outside my window and you hunched in my bed, cigarette lit and eyes afire. You'd show me your scars and the fresh cuts on your body. You'd get drunk and try to break into the church, do you remember, the one on the hill, the one by the off-licence where we'd buy wine on weekdays, where we'd buy cigarettes and gum and then you'd call me and come over. The church was right next to where Baby lived and she would cook me breakfast and I would miss work and wait for you while pretending not to, pretending like I was just missing work and nothing else.
I remember New Years Day, the year when I lost the baby, but that hadn't happened by then. V and I coming round the pub where you worked. I ordered brandy, neat, my scarf high up around my face, I was bruised and screwed up and you noticed, it irritated me but I liked it too.
I remember the time we first fell out and how we made up. I remember the heavy silver rings you wore the second time we fell out and how you left them at my place, by the bathtub, and I kept them forever and then gave them back. Songs remind me, not so much of you, but of times spent, of endless nights and days I'd live to regret, of friendships sacrificed and things we did that we ought not to have done.
I loved you then, in my own way, and I love you now (my brother my lover my friend) in my own way: never quite enough but always a little more than I should. If I could go back I'd go back and do it all again but this time I wouldn't leave; I'd stay or I'd take you with me, or go somewhere completely different and forget everything that ever happened and maybe I'd be happy.
I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I'm 29 feeling like 17, and you're even older seeming even younger. I'm sorry you're there and I'm here. I'm sorry you're torn up and I'm even more sorry at how torn up I am. I'm sorry I never told you how deeply in love with you I was.
Damn.
I remember New Years Day, the year when I lost the baby, but that hadn't happened by then. V and I coming round the pub where you worked. I ordered brandy, neat, my scarf high up around my face, I was bruised and screwed up and you noticed, it irritated me but I liked it too.
I remember the time we first fell out and how we made up. I remember the heavy silver rings you wore the second time we fell out and how you left them at my place, by the bathtub, and I kept them forever and then gave them back. Songs remind me, not so much of you, but of times spent, of endless nights and days I'd live to regret, of friendships sacrificed and things we did that we ought not to have done.
I loved you then, in my own way, and I love you now (my brother my lover my friend) in my own way: never quite enough but always a little more than I should. If I could go back I'd go back and do it all again but this time I wouldn't leave; I'd stay or I'd take you with me, or go somewhere completely different and forget everything that ever happened and maybe I'd be happy.
I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I'm 29 feeling like 17, and you're even older seeming even younger. I'm sorry you're there and I'm here. I'm sorry you're torn up and I'm even more sorry at how torn up I am. I'm sorry I never told you how deeply in love with you I was.
Damn.
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