Little Things

Is this why it always crumbles?

I’m not one for

Surprise trips to sunshine climes,

Bank note flourishes or credit card chimes.

Planting love bombs beneath burning bridges,

Or photos juxtaposed

To prove our compatibility on social media.

Am I doing it wrong?

I hope not. 

For me, it’s the little things.

A soft kiss before I pour you a drink.

A warm hug when you’ve had a bad day.

Train journeys learning your best mate’s best song

So I can serenade you both with a voice note.

Substance over style, 

Hoping that’s enough for a while. 

Walks by the weir,

Arcade games on the pier.

Cuddles and whispers in the garden in the dark,

Spoon-shaped mornings setting fire to our spark. 

Moments that can’t be captured for Facebook or Insta

As they last one second but also last one eternity.

Shopping for pyjamas in Tesco at midnight,

Laughing our way around the deserted aisles,

Because you love me and I love you,

And even one night apart feels like a lifetime. 

Or did, once. 

Because now every night is apart for a lifetime,

And it’s just me wandering the nightwear section

Despite owning all the fucking pyjamas

A grown man could ever need.

(One pair.)

Am I doing it wrong?

I hope not.

For me, it’s the little things.