Busted Vinyl

Maybe I should have loved you 

harder 

than I did at the time of pain, 

at the time of resuscitated  

will  

and happy memory. 

Anti-climactic bliss nips at our 

ankles, 

I feel your arms around 

my shoulders in 

a faithless embrace 

and when I turn, 

you let me go like 

a busted vinyl that 

we danced to only yesterday. 

I think my sewn-up heart 

needs splitting. 

It’s a bone, in my back, 

which you crack 

with every word. 

Our tango beneath the 

snake-skin chandelier 

makes my stomach flutter, 

eyes wander, 

mind eclipse. 

You’ll kiss me again, 

I’ll lose again. 

I want to walk in the Sun, 

see the pretty romance of a daffodil 

and its frail stem, 

smell the radiance of the night 

in the lowly glow of the moon - 

I can hear her bitten fingernails 

on the window panes. 

I can still feel your frosty fingers 

snagging the skin 

of my arms. 

Maybe you should have learnt from 

the first time 

you hurt me. The first time 

I cried sugar into your tears. 

Stop looking at my lips 

and look into my eyes; 

my pupils are vibrating - like 

busted vinyl.