Lost

Lost:

 

This book.

I can’t stop thinking;

falling

back

to those caffeine-

fuelled nights

reading, writing,

reading.

Your brain sparked

by nicotine,

loosened by alcohol.

Mine, blurred,

dull

as January sky.

 

You taught me metaphor.

A sharp short-circuit of emotion

you don’t need to understand.

 

You taught me pool

And how to skip

stones;

the world spun on vodka-

spiked

Diet Coke

and light-headed lungfuls

of tobacco.

 

I miss you.

The morning runs, the evening

pints,

the random texts and writing

checks

but more:

I miss

your bloody hugs.

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