i've never seen a baby photo of you.
it may seem crazy but
your mum never got out the old, dusty maroon album
and sat me down on the couch with her
to watch while she flicked and flicked and flicked
through the pages of peachy skin and pastel colours and bulky toys.
i never got to laugh at your face which was
flushed with embarassment at pictures of the little boy
you think you have set free but you haven't.
and now it's over.
i never got to muse over the likeness between
a cute bundle of skin and blankets
and the tanned, muscular, ash-blonde you,
whose coffee fingers were entwined with my ivory ones.
i have seen the worst of you,
the best of you,
but not that side of you that has faded almost to nothingness,
the side of you which thrived before i set foot in your heart.
it's strange to know that another you existed.
and i don't know about it.
i remember hot nights when you smelt and tasted
like alcohol and weed and the orange and black
darkness would stain you with its rusty glow.
i remember cool days when i left the fruity scent
of my perfume on your shirt. it was nothing like me.
it was annoyingly sweet and fake, but it reminded me of certain events.
i remember hilarious shades of nectarine lipstick
that i would leave on your lips and before i went
i would turn and look and laugh at that slightly-more-colourful shadow.
and i sink into my memories.
baby, i want to sink into your memories.
i want to know that you existed before i did.
to know that you weren't always the same:
metal tube hanging out of your mouth and earphones plugged in.
your mind not polluted and your stomach not contaminated.
i miss the completed jigsaw of our conversation.
i just want to see the photos of you before you could talk, walk, kiss.
flawless talcolm powder skin and smooth sepia eyes.
it could be anyone.
written: Saturday 22nd October 2004, 6:14pm.
