Rubble

I traced the cracks in the paint

On the wall beside the radiator,

They surged in after you slammed my door

For the first time.

The earthquake that you were.

I traced every line and crack

And scratch and dent

Caused by the echoes

Of those early morning drunk riots,

Where your soul was troubled

And mine was lost amongst the rubble.

I traced them like they were map lines,

Highways and contours,

Hoping they would guide me back to the real you.

The one who loved me and heard me,

And didn’t berate me for the pain

You had been through before me.

I watched the white satin gloss seep deep

Between the cracks in the skirting board.

It sank in after I told you to leave

For the last time.

The tsunami that I was.

I watched it coat every line and crack,

And scratch and dent.

Seemingly filling that void in me,

Only to dry and snap free again

Each time your bus roared past the flat;

An echo of you I couldn’t remove.