Tim Kitchin

I am your mascara before the lash
The blusher before the blush
The nettle before the rash
I am the vodka before the rush
...

It's cold here in your pram
Without a blanket
Fingers folding fast before the rain
Knee to knee
...

Perhaps it is, perhaps it ain't.
We grow alive and then grow faint.

It must be like this when bridges meet,
...

We fall so often
And so far
Climbing out of love
...

Less and less curious.
I know the time is takes to wonder,
is better spent in bed.
...

Iris to iris.
Make your dare.

I give my silent promise.
...

I came merely by chance the other day to the lake,
where we had lain finally untogether on the bank.
You from your life. Me from mine.
Or perhaps the other way around.
...

I am the chewing gum on your wheel.
I am the blakey on your heel.
I am the cellophane to your sandwich.
The needle to your stitch.
...