I only Love You When You’re Sad
I only love you when you’re sad
When you’re hopeless, when you’ve had
enough of life and it’s just
me, and only me you trust.
I like it when you’re crushed, weak willed;
it puts me in control. I filled
with heartfelt words, your broken cup.
I hope it didn’t cheer you up.
I’ve become a lot more like my mother
as I’ve got older. I need less sleep now;
I wake up at 5am, go down to
plan my day, listen to the birds and write
poetry. I work very hard on the
garden, I do a lot of weeding and
have developed muscular forearms which
my girlfriend likes. I’m more generous with
my time, and better at keeping in touch
with people now. I’ve started meeting my
mother’s friends and going to the theatre.
I’ve asked my father for lunch on Sunday.
I’ll wear that dress he likes, we’ll have a drink
and reminisce about how we first met.
Ben and the Skin
What if I had to lend you my skin, Ben?
Would there be enough?
Which parts should I lend you first,
and what should I wear to disguise the fact?
How long will you stand there
looking seriously at me, Ben?
Are you telling me or asking?
What face am I supposed to make?
This is not new material. You know
more than I do, standing there in your thin jacket,
eyes fixed on some distant thing.
What if I offered you my coat?