Poetry

Coffee with Will

You and I sit tight together,

legs unravelling around one another, fighting for space.

You are telling me stories

and I am pulling the words from you like teeth,

to hold in my hands and place under my pillow at nightfall.

Over our coffees your eyes prick and peck at mine

till as Medusa I am cast to stone by the self I see reflected.

Then you lay your hand on my cement one,

almost a caress, till with a subtle push

you start to crack my skin like walnuts.

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