11/18/2017 Poetry by Ben BrittonTooting it’s romantic being with you here in the light of the passing ambulances i’m sorry i keep looking at the time sweetheart i do only want to be with you irises grow you put your bare chest to mine the mistake of the sober morning you can trust me haven’t you noticed yet? i sound better when i’m caring, more middle class i mean you know i’ve never met anyone so similar not one although i’ve been in love and with a lot of guys – i don’t mind you snoring but could you cut out the philosophical crap? neither of us had latency periods anyway. and did i tell you about my childhood or the time i saw Uncle Paul’s ghost or the time i lay hallucinating on the bathroom floor and afterwards couldn’t call you just sip tea in bed with death in my lap? you pee too much but that’s okay i’ll masturbate whilst you’re in the bathroom. don’t lie there lie here. this is all so marital don’t go to sleep just yet though – i sigh slide an arm over and close my eyes. i see the alternative does not have the word love in it. seems like you want to go out tonight? i thought we were going to stay in and see the new Jeffery Dahmer movie. poke holes in your jumper with a biro pen you got paint on my shoes like a little kid Flames Trees – Thika i think something’s gone wrong for a moment i thought you were leaving? breakfast at the lebanese silent miserable shwarma my favourite running away the pool is empty is empty all the birds are now dead no i’m not going to take off my shirt for you instead await the earthquake to shift the beam from above my bed Lombardy, 1753 and slip away out the window come righteousness a gun and dont leave me waiting here at a crossroads maybe? bah the crosswords we do for love two frightened and alone to say much about anything except Vout and the drilling in the wall and keeping a mind on where the passports are at all times you went through the things of my house naked when i left you just like you were that time i said something perverted something’s wrong? no? and far away handpicked fruit is being painted – i dont want your excuses i want your money shall we do it? when? tonight? i’m not ready sex and death i said were all that mattered. what a responsible adult theyve grown in to ![]() Bio: Ben Britton is a writer studying in the south west of the UK, although was brought up in the Big City. He has had a few poems published, and was selected to be a judge for the 2017 Poetry Super Highway annual contest. He enjoys Chinese food and walking in the rain.
Allison
11/19/2017 11:48:37 am
Love that last poem. Esp the first 2 stanzas. I love repetition! People hardly ever do it or do it well... I think maybe it's either in you or it isn't. There can also be a lot of humor in repetition, which I love... Comments are closed.
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