the fan circles, spinning air
on the ceiling above my head
while a tap drips in the room next door 

i want to leap 
into your lap

cuddle what i can of you 

breathe in - your smell 
that is becoming so familiar 
knot your fingers in-between mine 
and look into your day weary face 

locked in our embrace
i know i never want to let go 

my thoughts turn with the time of day
are you in bed, awake?
perhaps thinking of me 
as i am of you  

i twist the tap - 
thoughts drain away 
as i prepare a late lunch 
turn over
sweep the crumbs from my front 

the hours bleed into one another 
as i watch the clouds clearing 
the day’s natural light fading 
my phone then illuminates 

it is you 
a text message

you want me to tell you a story 
but you are drunk and demanding
not appreciating that i 
have been waiting 

there are chatlines 

for the services 
you are requiring  

i am not playing. 




kate ©