The supermarket near where we live is flooded but we make the trip anyway. The aisles are full of driftwood and our clothes soaked but it’s no big deal because we have pizza and beer and we are young and free. I’m smoking, and although it’s just a few, you don’t like it and threaten to stop coming around but you never stay true to your word so I carry on regardless. When we pass through the shopping centre and look through the windows at all the things we can’t afford you squeeze my hand and whimper. You want jewellery and clothes and candles and books and cuddly toys in all shapes and sizes. You with that look on your face. Those puppy-dog eyes you pull knowing I’m a sucker for emotion. When we’re moving through the park I tell you there’s a place we belong far away from those we have no need for and although at first you don’t buy into it, you let me take you even though you doubt my intentions. What’s a little struggle between lovers? What’s a touch of madness when it comes to creating a portal? There’s a passage we take between the lake and the boat house that will allow us to slip from the clutches of mortality. If we drift into dreamland after sex while listening to The Cure, we will wake not being afraid. If we take off our clothes and step naked onto the beach before the gods, there will be nothing left to fear. So we skip down streets with no names with buildings on either side of us that will one day be dust and when we become dust ourselves we shall dance among the stars so fall into my arms- fall through the cracks in the pavement unafraid of what’s on the other side.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

11 replies »

  1. I read this yesterday and am back again today. As surreal as this is it is very true to life, young lovers have their own imagination land, it’s a very private place that you have described beautifully. xx

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