a rhyming thing about people

by Eman

It’s a sunday night and I’m on the floor

I’ve a story to tell even though my plane’s in an hour or so

Do you remember that night when it all kicked off,

I was real dizzy and you had that nasty cough

we had bruises on our elbows and dust in our eyes

my left contact fell out but I pretended to see fine

I remember scraping my knees and your shirt was ripped,

and the taxi driver was proper mad cos he weren’t tipped

even though we got mud all over his pretty black cab

but we didn’t care, we thought we was fab

you in your torn shirt, the one with the prints

it was covered in blood, it needed a good rinse

and my hair was all frizz and a couple of twigs

some leaves perhaps, a souvenir from the gigs

we laughed on the curb and shared a fag

I didn’t smoke back then but I took a long drag

I wanted you to think I were cool you see

I weren’t some sheltered girl from that part of the city

I could partake in some gentle debauchery

I could be like you.

You were laughing at my hairy pit

I’d forgotten to shave one and you wouldn’t stop talking about it

you laughed until you threw up on the gutter

I rubbed your back and called you a nutter

but you still walked me home, even though you were ill

and I lived far away, like six stops and up a hill

you held my hand because even though it was just us

there was always a chance of trouble on the night bus

I found a pair of rubber gloves, but they were both left handed

you asked me if they were the hypoallergenic brand and

I almost touched them to see

but then I remembered about the hepatitis c

you laughed and said I would do anything for you

I almost punched you in the nose because I knew it was true.

When we stopped at my door my throat was filled with cotton

I tried to speak, but all my words were forgotten

next time we’ll write a song together, you said, I’ll bring my guitar

we’ll meet at the old georgian bar

we’ll write a song about how we met-

that’s when you noticed my cheeks were wet

you flickered, and I cried out your name

I’ll see you, you whispered, I’ll see you again

I blinked, my story had drawn conclusion

because you were only ever a ghost, a fickle illusion.

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