When you have gone home – New Poem (1st draft)
When you have gone home
I put the kettle on
to make tea for two
but you got on the train a while ago,
with a whisky headache.
We couldn’t kiss, my mouth blistered
from stress, weather and worry,
so we gabbled in child language
until the doors were about
to shut you out on the platform.
I nap in the single bed we slept in,
in the t-shirt you left on the floor.
Touch your small, blue glasses case
with the Specksavers cleaning cloth inside.
I miss you and your warm skin,
like a stone left to get hot under the sun,
I love you.
I still have the first valentines card you gave me,
propped on the bookcase next to the desk
where I write everyday.
We watched a film last night
with an actor in that you don’t like, but
I do. Funny thing is, all I thought of was you.
I did not see him, but watched you act
in a very white wedding shirt
and black socks.