Oh at your age they should feel bloody well lucky to have the consideration of marrying you!
Surely they should fall at your feet?
They do?
Oh and flowers they'll bring, by single and in bunches,
Handpicked and supermarket swept,
Oh swept right off your feet,
So lucky they will be!

'' Andshe will swoon, oh won't she swoon?''
Of course she will! As good as any!
''Better!''
Oh, Better! (A nod of vague agreement).
''Oh and they'll wind your hair up like this for the big day!''
Oh no much more like this, tendrils dear, tendrils!
''Oh yes tendrils, such a delicate face''.

~

So yes, winter has come, and with it a heavier hairstyle,
And moistened lips.
And brown eyes that appear in black and white films beside a record player.
Sighs that slip visibly into air,
and fur that surrounds the neck.
''She's still alone isn't she?''.

He brought flowers though,
''He did?''
Oh... out of arguements sake.

Fur and tendril bustle into warmth and dim lighting,
Coffee aroma and subtle spices lie in layers throughout,
She takes a seat without ordering.

Hands that wash the dishes, are rubbed together to gain warmth.
As soft as your face, the cup and saucer are set on the table.
"Spose we'll have to put the dresses away until next year"
Mmm, And a look down the nose.

No petal will lie here,
Nor romance fill the seat before,
No endearing words whispered nor confidently slewn across the cheque,
Just her.
The frost lay in one smooth sheen across the city,
the evening just setting in,
Though night has already graced it's presence.


It is funny how thoughts as embarrassing will simply not pass into any thing worth putting onto paper, how thoughts so shaming simply cannot be threaded into a piece of writing. Im simply ...