Another night in the Midlands after a heavy weekend of drugs
and you are there to catch me in fresh bed linen, a square meal and cups of tea in bed.
Reminds me – You were there to catch me when I learned to ride a bike. One hand a foot behind my back.
Very little is said about the past, now we talk about the future.
You bring it up like it’s around the corner, crack open another bottle of gin and talk about big things like we’re going down in a plane crash.
Listen, I still can’t bring myself to tell you how much heartache you caused while we bounced between three houses more than a decade ago.
When you disappeared we scooped her up, brought her back from the edge and guided her back to the light.
In my experience people who talk about death feel it coming
Feel it’s weight heavy on the brain.
You cried once when you had cancer
Even those who struggle to open up do one day
What’s it really worth now anyway?
At some point in the future you’ll just be stardust.
You’ll be chairs, paper, hair follicles, cotton; twinkling, burning, drifting. Ephemeral.
I look around the living room and feel weightless on the sofa.
You gulp down the remainder of your gin and switch the TV on.
Brian Cox and his Wonders of the Universe
As we watch the swirling beautiful world in silence
You turn to me and say,
“We are all stardust. You. Me. That sofa. Everything.”