we’d talk about foxgloves

and pink sunsets

 

how the mayans ate chocolate

with a hint of chlli

sweet and glossy

in ceramic cups carved with gods and men

 

we’d drag ourselves through fields of brambles

and nettles

to get to the spaces we knew

havens amidst minefields

 

our legs streaked crimson on white

our sport socks clotted with blood and sweat and victory

 

we’d talk about each other

the shame and the sugar

the beatings and

gin stained dinnertimes

 

you’d appear with fresh bruises

i’d say nothing

just pick up a stick and hit

you with it

 

the first night i met you

you shot a cat

with a pellet gun

and laughed

and cried

and screamed

like you didn’t know

what life was suppose to be

 

you had moved from glasgow

to get away from him

and as we lay together

under the stars

knowing we would both

be in so much trouble

and for once

just once

not caring

you told me you loved me

 

and i laughed

called you gay

 

and walked away

 

and i never saw you again

 

i heard a few days later

that he had come back

and you and your mum

had gone abroad

 

and just last week

i saw a picture of you

and your eyes

told me he'd won

 

so sandy

 

i am sorry

 

i loved you too.