• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 12
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weigh me

weigh me
but you won't, and don't, but do
wrap my glass heart
in warm cotton, forego
my saboteurs, and cheer me up
knock on my door when its raining

love me instead
hand me flowers, carry my woes
ride us to greeneries through
winding roads and wuthering height
the north yorkshire moors
were glorious
the peak district and its seductive
hills had a calming way about them
i enjoyed them and the sauvignon blanc
in the steam room
in the spaceship hot tub
of our coronation cabin, where we saw nicole scherzinger steal the show
where we made easy meals from M&S
and made of our money a nest
a glamour a cozy blanket

grounding us to each other
to this gay domesticity
fairy lights on the fire place, baby's breath on the isle of wight vase
blue silver glass


weigh me

reflecting tears of the kingdom in the nights, and absorbing kylie's tension,
then watching me tie my boot laces
heading to lightwoods park,

and in my routine weight these
episodes like blessings; we fought to be together, and it did amount
to something beautiful.

it was 10% luck, and then
90% us working, leaving no room for doubt. recalling the 'it gets better',
in that youth oh so closeted, 'it gets better' was a distant prayer.

now a decade on,
somewhat, answered.