Love town

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I started drinking black coffee just to impress you.

So you would think I was uncomplicated but full of interesting thoughts.

You said you hated the hippy streets of Brighton, but like my father, I fell in love with your bohemian ways.

You wore Prada suits and always brown leather shoes. Had an apartment overlooking the Victorian gardens but really, you were just a business man gagging to play.

You liked your liquor. You tasted of dark ale.

And you sketched. With a ballpoint pen downplaying how good you really were. Just like my  father.

Your smell of Turkish soap was subtle but it calmed my immature and urgent ways. Otherwise sometimes…I think I would have devoured you.

.

I daydreamed of comforting hugs, while I wetted your kitchen counter sitting there playing you were the cat.

I’ve wanted to fall in lust ever since I was 16. Ever since I crashed my first butterfly.

And I do it differently each time.

More vividly, merciless.

Just a bit of fun. Your intentions failed to reach me.

I know the way you saw me. 

And I saw you like him. Mesmerised by your reading lines. Intoxicated by your old age.

.

It was love town. For a whole 5 minutes and 10 seconds.