Improvising the last act on the Bakerloo Line,
Finding any excuse to waste the lingering hours.
It didn’t need to be a crescendo or a climax;
Just to be in proximity, slap a seal on it; that’ll do.
I know that’s the kind of lie you’d spin to polish small talk
But I reckon you really meant it.
I’m nearly on the end laps of my 20’s
But I’m still so fucking terrified.
Each second planned in my company,
The responsibility has me shaking in my boots.
I’m putting your hands on the trigger
And I’m trusting you not to pull,
Even though you should probably shoot.
Statistically you should shoot –
In fact it only benefits you to shoot –
But the curiosity comes in seeing whether or not you do.
And it’s not like I’m getting down on one knee,
If you think I’m gonna drop a ‘Love You’ now,
You’d better expect this song to end a 4/4 early.
But when we’re rationing the heat in our bones,
Inside a Turkish pop-up sandwich shop,
As the carousel casts a neon shine upon your profile:
It gives me something I ain’t had in a while,
It gives me a motive to crack a smile again
We’re taking refuge from the spacial oblivious and decidedly blind,
It’s as if we’re avoiding being in the shot.
While the taste of cigarettes on your breath lingers on mine:
My favourite cuisine to a freezing Sunday evening.
I’m gonna remember this night, no matter
When I’m dribbling in rocking chairs, I’ll remember it.
In the declaration age all this has gotta come off underwhelming,
But if only I could articulate what it meant.
Cos I felt so safe, warm, I felt cared for
Yeah, we’re beautiful, impossible, we’re invincible.
For you that’s gotta be just another weekender,
But if only I could tell you what that meant.
I ain’t gonna break out the engagement ring or mortgage,
But can I see you again? Can I see you again always?
Sebastian Noël
Domestic Poetry 