Memoirs of a Life Unlived

Looking back at things we used to do, You were younger then than I am now! Though I'll always have these seven years on you, It feels like a massive cheat somehow.

Pain dries like blood All his strength lifts one foot from the mud Senses pared down To some shapes and the taste of the ground She took his heart In a book he was taken apart King of the rain Has the dream he is running again

Maybe I was reading in the classroom, Maybe I was dreaming in my bed. Half a world away, a newborn soul bloomed And a perfect moment looked ahead. From that day we shared the world, my darling, Moving ever closer till we kissed. On that day, you set the Heavens swirling. Every day, you are my greatest gift.

His lips are clamped around his latte straw like there's a petrol tank to drain. She knows he's glancing at her - both are - despite that solid staring at their phones we all do. That part of her that knows they care she's cordoned off; she'll need the space. Not tragic, because most come back, but sad because this table scene is probably the best they'll have for years.

He sees fluid swaying in a semicircle and his balance in the bubble of a spirit level. Anvil, oval window, stirrup - cityscape of minute parts. Perusing the Tube map he journeys, connects, anticipates snafus: the lungs of the Northern line cradle the ruddy pump of Holborn, as clean and clear as Metropolitan nostrils. The right foot of Heathrow Terminals shoots scores of planes a day. Slowly, steadily, he teases Operation from the pile of childhood games.

He sees fluid swaying in a semicircle and his balance is the bubble in a spirit level. Anvil, oval window, stirrup - cityscape of minute parts - he doesn't want to know. Choosing the Tube map he journeys, connects, anticipates snafus: the lungs of the Northern line, cradling the ruddy pump of Holborn, as clean and clear as Metropolitan nostrils. The right foot of Heathrow Terminals shoots scores of planes a day. Slowly, steadily, he teases Operation from the pile of childhood games.