It was the way we fell against the wall with a thump and a slap that made me sure of the escaping echo of our fuck, through the under door.

And it still resonates.

I remember you at the strangest of times.

You rise, like an unwelcome surprise, though my fetal curl and heavy lids are slowly training you.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

I have almost drowned the hurt of your strong hands and I’ve given up on trying to understand who you are now and what you think of me.

Last night, I remembered the smile across a crowded suburban bar and I once again saw us driving with risk, in the car that didn’t suit you. I always try to forget the things which probably don’t matter anymore.

Yesterday is a temptress mistress.

And I have been tempted to forgive both your ghost and my now.

The equation is not equal, the ache is heavy here and if I were a sea-saw, I would’ve been flicked from my side of the plank with the weight of unfairness.

All I ever wanted was for you to understand me.

You’re the bully of my playground life, you are the name calling of my heart and I knew, right from the very beginning; on the footpath, at the start, that I should’ve just kept walking.

Instead, I climbed into the seat of your swing and I spun in circles and swung backward and fro and I should’ve let you go, when the door slammed and your Capricorn hand found my weakness.

Still, I don’t regret one single day.

Except for the one on which you were taken away.

I wish you could’ve stayed and played and made everything more peaceful in that better way.

It hurts me with a fall so deep; it never ceases to ache.

And the scars; they are what they are.

You are the break; of that bone, of the skeleton, of me.

I am thankful for the life we created and almost destroyed.

And I know that you are watching.

But I need you to trust me.

Finally.

© ryan