We had met in the heart of England;
the middle of fucking nowhere.
His voice was this deep,
I wanted to drown in the amber -
drink myself to the bottom
of his larynx.
When we were twenty-four, he'd promised
the big city was where I wanted to be -
where we wanted to be.
When the sun went down and
orange flames licked the sky, we'd worked in bars
and stayed up till dawn.
The casinos did the best breakfasts,
We'd licked the plates clean and
gambled our money away through his poker face
and my cocktail dress -
a sequined dogs dinner.
At twenty-seven, we'd moved to the outskirts.
The night skies were so clear
we'd grab the stars by the handful
and counted them like beads
on an abacus.
But the city called us back,
that city of nymphs and monsters.