20 Chester Gardens, the therapist’s
house where they met, she entering,
he leaving
19 barbiturates washed down with
a Bacardi Breezer
18 months suspended for car theft
and joy-riding. Community service
and the trick cyclist: piece of
piss
17 years old and pregnant with her
father’s child
16 quid in his pocket: a few bevvies
each and a bag of chips to share
15 long razor cuts to her left arm,
some healed, others weeping
14 when he beat a pensioner to death
– it was the glue, not the
money
13 days in the acute psychiatric
ward and no respite from her pain
12 bus stops to her house, he’s
spruced and ready
11 teddies warming her on the bed
as she floats towards oblivion
10 years old when he ran away from
the beatings
9 lives for cats, one for girls
8 when his mother gave up the ghost,
battered into an early grave
7 O’clock and don’t
be late.” His words. “I
Love you.” Hers.
6 times he tries her mobile. No
reply. Probably powdering her fanny.
5 minutes more, perhaps. Stomach
cramps, double vision, racing pulse,
cold, cold skin.
4 days since they’d kissed,
his passion alight, hers locked
out.
3 younger sisters she couldn’t
protect
2 damaged lovers, doomed, a bus
ride and a world apart. Two lives
lost
One white light, drawing her in.
One fleeting regret he wasn’t
there. One more breath, then silence.
