I'm waiting to wake up in the middle of the night again
in your bed again
just like how it used to be back then


in the beginning

before the complications that came along with
wanting what we could never have
but, occationally, had anyway
hidden away
in a backroom somewhere

where we'd discuss last nights episode of some cartoon
an innocent finger down my pants
a hug lasting too long
my mouth round your cock
the way your eyes lit up as you made me laugh
back when I didn't laugh very often


I wouldn't want to wake up next to you, now
loving memories of your face, arms, hands and tounge
all covered in shit and sick and cum
muddled up and topped with sodawater
like a cheap copy of the old fashioned
you once made me

I think that was the night before
we kissed goodbye at King's Cross during rush hour