When we first met,
Another man tried to grab me
You had one hand and he had the other
You told him you were my brother.
I hadn’t said a word to him so your accent didn’t spoil the ploy.
What must he have thought when you stuck your tongue down my throat
And I wrapped around you with the music?
We didn’t care.
I started to leave with my friends and you frowned at me, jerked your head back in disbelief, that I didn’t try and cement it.
It’s not that I didn’t like you, I just thought you might have been too beautiful to be really interested I suppose.
I was only 18 – I didn’t trust my appeal. You understood yours.
We swapped numbers and I fell in love with you over the next few months.
A drunk woman said “beautiful” in your language, she came and sat with us.
This was our first date.
When she left, you slipped your tongue in my ear right there – ridiculous.
I know you regretted what happened eventually, I remember our argument vivid.
I got dressed angry, makeup streaming. The room a spinning cliche.
All your friends left to go to the restaurant while I screamed the place down,
I hurled my hurt at you and shocked you with my heartbreak.
You wanted to see me before you left, but I couldn’t do it.
My nights were heavy sobs.
I still remember what your face felt like.
Our dark curls matching and
The weight of your head on my shoulder in the kitchen.
And putting after-sun on your cocky self that time – burnt by the British Summer.
You’re so easy to conjure up.