Borrowed Intimacy

At the blink of an eye, months turned to years.
As days and promises lost their significance.
You came and went with frequency and affection.
Unable to commit to any sense of shared space.

The breathless passion of our content youth.
Explored by bodies innocent of age and anger.
We carried the ability to dream whilst awake.
Prophetic visions and not simply reflections.

I resign myself to nature and the universality of maturity.
The spark easily ignited now takes hours to ignite.
I relinquish its ownership and succumb to reality.
You were never an object to own.

This intimacy should never have been shared, enjoyed or even loved.
I lost myself in you.
And lost you to her.

Morning

Reality flew out of the window and settled on the balcony with a view of the Thames.
All that had made him a fixture in the future disintegrated that very morning.
A fragrant realisation filtered in with the morning light.
The moment had arrived for my eminent departure.