… absolute garbage?

There is a sense of intimacy that comes between two strangers in the early hours of the morning. Almost as if in a moonlit darkness the slate has been wiped clear of the past’s mistakes, the broken promises of a lover leaving or the whimsical belief that love is just around the corner and you start to see the dawning of a new day as a wonderful thing to cherish. Well perhaps not so much cherish as appreciate after a few cups of milky coffee, a nibble on a croissant and a half smoked cigarette later.

In the past month since we met I have found myself in an almost purgatory state not unlike a coffee shop where your order is taken but never delivered. We are more than friends, but less than lovers, the future remains open to explore. And then there are the inevitable feelings that come in moments of weakness when, in desperation you want to believe in the possible, but the cynical worldliness a eunuch heart nurtures from a lifetime of experience silences the butterflies within.

The feelings of hopelessness as you walk out of a building full of promise to discover that you car has been stolen. Not knowing how the next day, or the day after that would be accomplished without the independence that you take for granted while you hold the keys in your hand. The ungratefulness rising like bile every time you passed another wishing that you possessed it – and now possessing nothing at all. But learning to put on foot in front of the other is the secret to success. Mine.

Feelings that I see on the faces of so many around me crowded into the streets, the narrow ally-ways and the pavements. Faces that i have almost forgotten until the reminder comes – that could be me. We never give a thought that in a blink of an eye our lives could change into something it isn’t. Fortunes could be lost, homes taken away, and the things that we measured ourselves against all reduced to nothing. In a blink of an eye we too become … nothing.

But in the darkness, where you lay entombed by the tattooed arms of your lover, there is little that can touch you – not even the cold winter draft that comes from somewhere in the room.


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