I Speak to You of Islands
9th January 2025

I speak to you of islands,
rustic houses in sun baked cobbled streets,
of large kitchen tables with market food, and wine,
…and of lazy beds covered in white sheets and mosquito netting,
imagined physical form to the parallel universe we inhabit from time to time,
our alter to a love both new and young.

These imagined futures I speak to you of, I desire so heavily I can taste them,
…taste them in you, in the softness of your lips,
the firm sensuality of your loving body and nature,
your honesty, beauty, and your being,
…and I taste us, …taste all the possible permutations we could be,
futures immeasurably winding their way (our way), into anonymity,
their detail blurred under drawn out moments of ecstasy.

But that approaching infinity, it never arrives,
instead we face other, more immediate futures,
my love is still there, you tell me it is deep between us, and this I feel,
…but still our eyes turn grey,
and I cannot see, feel only pain, and can picture only tragedy in front of us,
…again and again.

I apologise for I know this is not right,
…I don’t like apologising …and I know you don’t like being apologised to,
We have been running back, stumbling over ground we are both familiar with,
unable to let go,
I have come to realise that I think I know, that deep, deep down, …what is, must be so.

How did we arrive at this place,
In love,
hurting,
failing…

Terra Cotta Roof Tiles,
Italy