The hero did

The hero did – yes, that thing you thought. The villain, though, he – yes, you’re right again. And then – but you know that.

Written in the stars

Nothing, but nothing, is written in the stars. Except the words I felt when you held my hand and the stars fell towards the sea.

I ripped open the pillows, the duvets, and emptied them out, climbed onto the wardrobe, held my breath and dove into the deep deep down.

Last night I dreamed I did not sleep. I lay awake, eyes blinking, thoughts racing, chest tight. And then I dreamt I woke.

Creak.

Thump.

Tinkle.

Knees, heart and other night sounds as old age gets up in the dark.

The ice wind breathes ever harder; one by one city lights go out.

They hold hands. If they are ever found, they will be found together.

The world spirals helterskelter to where she is, whether I will or I won’t, but I will and I do. My favourite place is there.

Pitchblack night, no stars. Hold my hand, I’ll stop you from falling – then I fell. Two lying in the mud, crying laughing.

Losing you, my mouth
And ideas dried.
Water me again.

The darkness hides the miles; they’re gone.
A whispered word
and a wish tied together fly –
tomorrow spring birds will sing.