3 April 2010

good to know

It’s good to know that you
aren’t the person I 
will be most happy with,
and my children won’t look like you
or shrug the way you do.
We won’t stay up till dawn talking,
dancing in the kitchen, red wine lips
or console each other after a crap day at work;
run around new cities
nor hide in the pockets of old ones;
light each others cigarettes and
grow sleepy in the back of cabs.
You won’t make me cups of tea
while I remain under the covers,
or read me parts of your favourite books
as my head hangs over the mattress
and my arm rests across your stomach
I won’t remind you how brilliant you are
when you feel so insignificant,
or sing the wrong lines in songs
to try coaxing out that grin of yours.
There will be no midnight walks or
stumbling up stairs, no hand against
my back or oversized jacket on my
shoulders. Arguing in supermarkets
and sniggering quietly in art galleries,
rolling eyes at parties and blinking
too much in the bleached sunlight.
sprawled on the fuzzy grass in the evening
while our friends are across the road at karaoke
waiting for us,nor fat raindrops 
under heavy tree branches that hang over us. 
No wondering if
everyone feels this way or
is as lucky as us, and our voices won’t change on
the phone to each other, growing soft and playful;

It’s good to know
I have been spared all of this
because it’s not you these things are meant for.

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