19

Sit in the kitchen, listen to radio 4.

And Gaze out the door.

A little Vacant and bored.

Pain stays like a stain on the floor,

so hedge my bets for a second and then I set for a walk.

I call my dad and say, ‘I’m bored of all the same advice’.

 Same dreams that we find under fading lights.

 I want a future little crisper than the bacon bite.

Reaching higher heights than eyes searching for straying kites.

Wading right into the question of I could, I might.

But close my eyes for a second, too scared to set my sights.

Take a cigarette, and smoke it to the evening light.

 And think of 19, how I saw it through the dreamers eyes.

 I’m right here, missing days on playgrounds.

Paper planes that we flew on through the grey clouds.

We’d pray from rain, hoping clouds would slowly break down and fill us with the feeling of a future as it came down.

Stay round and ask my dad if I’ll make him proud?

Taking on the weight within the words of

‘make it great now’.

19, yeah I’m young in my mind.

So, tell me why I’m running out of time.

It goes…….

And I’m talking to you.

Head in the clouds but the skys still blue.

Now, I can see you on the corner with your stories told.

19, day dreaming with your Malbrough golds.

In pouring cold cigarettes you fought to hold

and figure out your future like your days we’re turning all to stone.

Writing poems about missing your bed.

Hope to speak it out,

but try and listen instead.

Thoughts upon the paper that you pencilled in lead, not quite a boy nor a man, but yet you act it instead.

Head full of nothing.

You’re down and out said it’s ‘tough’ and,

You miss your mother so much you say that you ‘suffer from loving’.

But then I’ll say that it’s nothing

with every step that I’m touching I

hope to see the better man i’m slowly becoming.

Ink stained poems upon the back of a napkin.

Said it real smooth on the track like Verstappen.

I know I promised you the moon but trust I’ll take you to Saturn.

 19 was, and 19 happened.

It goes….

I’m talking to you.

Head in the clouds but the skys still blue.

We used to tremble, sit in rooms as ‘Lonely Guys’.

Sit in silence at parties untill our phones would die.

 Catching eyes, that would sink or rise like you caught a line.

 A brighter blue in hue with that golden twist like them autumn skies.

Sought to find a little peace upon the morning times.

When your coffees only caffeine for the pouring skies.

Invite the rain, cos when it pours no one can see you cry.

Take that to your death bed, right before you die.

I’m missing 19 too.

Been 19 since I’ve seen my mothers eyes, blue.

I felt freer then, between me and you

All I’ve dreamt of and all I didn’t do.

It goes…

I’m talking to you.

Head in the clouds but the skys still blue