pale flat.

Should some one try to casually brisk through my door
I should be stood behind it.
Not callously
But quite sincere, and thinking you should be back with her.
Quite realistically i pondered this, funnily enough with my back to the door.
And remembered just how cagey she was, and how heartless disapearing made you seem.
I kept leaving words around the door frame
and leaking them under the door itself, like a spare key.
My ideas used to be better than this, as you shan't ever pop in for a drink.
When your three trains and a coach away and I'm in my friends fourth storey flat,
you'd think, gosh we could just meet by chance ?
But it's entirely sour to comprehend.

My arms turned, outstretched to the sound,
wofting softly from the round speaker in the corner,
My head lolled back and my eyes almost closed
My teeth exposed
and the rest of the city slept.
The material thinly draped around me followed my arms airily
as i turnt.
The soft gurglings of the baby in the room across the hall, whenever the change between songs left me lost.
I'll admit i ended up on the floor.

For a few seconds there my neck stretched to the sky.
Tense but at home, and it was always clean.
The carpet so pale, and the walls all so plain.
But to shut myself away, made serene in complications.
Such contrast to the smoke leaked streets,
where the buses trumbled by
and the old people ran, and the kids dressed so bright,
and the rubbish strewn on pavements
made the grease from the chippy ever so tang,
the jagged parts of the pavements,
and the clanging of the change in traffic from car to people for the roads.
Day light hurt my eyes out there
So i led back on the floor
of the pale flat.