Make – Emma Joyce

I shared a bitter liquid,
With five bitter friends.
As we wandered from one town to another.
This is our world,
Not theirs.
It must be.
It doesn’t make for vacant men with a thirst,
For emptying their pocket. 
The mist found us.
No wait. It was fog.
Crept and crawled, 
But you always knew your way back.
Just had to breath. 
Did you see him? 
…(did I even?)
He was looking at you.
He was I swear it. 
For all to see,
Over the rim of one poor mans coffee cup.
I sat in the grass, 
I lay in it. 
Sparkling, cold grey eyes drilled into me. 
I melted 
I broke. 
How miserable an empty display of affection could make…
Well, it was nothing really. 
Have you deluded yourself yet? 
You found those pretty places, 
As if you were the only one to ever make-
Just watch the waterfalls,
Let the sound rush over
Forget all that. 
The fog has yet to set in, 
But I brought a lighter.
Of course you did. 
You always did.