TheCourtRose

A watermark in my heart for the curve of Welsh shores, gray sky slumber and quilted dreaming Missing your rose-cheeked faces Toes are sandy with memory, the squeak of swollen doorways and thick-framed windows against hushed gales This is a mismatched sunshine Mumbling, mumbles in the edge of my mind- low-slung, keening voices No way to erase the tides of rising lines marking the places I have been

We shared a movie. There might have been popcorn. I remember the florescent light on your strawberry-blond curls. You liked Enid more than Rebecca. I felt relieved that you didn't want the blond with tits. You understood that last drunken night. All she wants is cock and comfort, you said. So did I. But you didn't understand me until 3 years later, when we were both covered in paint. The gray flaked over your strawberry-blond curls. I should have chose you, you said. No shit Sherlock.