Birds

We cling to each other,

We’re mad dogs with

Blinkered eyes, with

One destination.

The tunnel down which

We fall – as black

As the valleys that form

Crushed velvet.

We met in our teens,

Again in our twenties.

There was no connection.

Just a bit too much to drink,

At first.

Time is the great, great

Throw-together-er.

Trust reached a level,

Stabilised,

Established itself.

And then,

We thought we understood each other.

But we both kept our heads.

So perhaps we did

Understand.

Spinning hawks

Eyeing one another,

Laughing,

Angry.

Are we different to them?

Were you happy?

Are we birds of a snapping bill?

Soft snake of spring,

Pink grass. Quickly,

I’ll fall over running,

I’ll throw up and love it.

I think you dislike me.

I am convenient.

As you are.

My reflection in you:

The luxury of ignorance

In its every

Regrettable

Form.

Love loves company.

We wasted so much time

At home,

All we wanted to do was give.

I do not love you for you,

I know.

You know.

I am the patient receptacle

Of every outpouring

That your blood made bad

Before it was let.

I never ask for you,

But I give myself to you,

And you deal me

The ecstasy of enslavement,

That my young girl heart

Has ceased to deny

Before the protracted chatter of

Educated minds.

Savage. I

Would rip you apart

In the blink of an

Eye.

We’re poised.

Like billy-o, so happy, we’re sad.

But we are in love.

One discovers soon enough

That something’s got to give,

But whilst they may wait alone,

We wait together.

We birds of a feather.