Letters, unsent

To the girl who thinks I don't want her, who won't let me explain

The stories he shovels you are close to insane

Evenings I could wander, invisible to both of you

I tried but some little thing was always missing

Eternally non-maternally mine

Huddled in your favourite duffle, pushing me out of your bubble

And, to Tosh collecting your trinkets, who saw value in me

My undandy vigilante

The anti-hero trapped deep in thought

You might float high above us all

But grand ideas and kind gestures never made you a better man

I took one look at your steel grey Nova

No room on the back seat to lay me down gently

Stuff and things in threes

Sheets and waves of papers crashing

To me you looked like drowning

If anyone needed saving, it was you