Craig Taylor-Broad (Writer)

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&&&&&&&& (but only sometimes)

She had a plastic dick in her drawer
and I had a moth in my wallet
so I guess you could say we were
made for each other.
I want to be adored not
loved I told her and she dolled out
beautiful promises that we
both knew she couldn’t keep.
And we had the most brilliant of
arguments about the names of our
asthmatic babies. And our
words would fall heavy
like tear drops
on the silent pavements of a
midnight city where everyone else
only dared to whisper we would
scream out each other’s names.
And in our more quiet interludes
she asked me if she
had her cute moments,
and I told her sometimes
because that’s all a moment is,
a sometimes.
And somewhere
in midnight city,
sometimes,
a child pulls open his bedroom
blinds with his curious eyelids
and he holds his baited breath
waiting for the next call of sound so
he can sleep
and he can dream
of parents as passionate as our
crafted ‘we’.
And maybe we saw him,
and maybe we heard him wheeze
between breaths, and maybe we
adopted this asthmatic baby
because like his mum
he had his cute moments.
But only
sometimes.