I thought if I had you, all existence shone

If I had your sorrows,
The sorrows of life did not matter.

I thought your beauty gave permanence
To the colours of spring
And your eyes were
The only stars in the universe.

I thought if I could only make you mine
Destiny would, forever, be in my hands.
Now I know there are afflictions,
Nothing to do with desire,
Raptures, nothing to do with love

(c) Faiz, A Faiz



Pride, 2016

Pride 2016.  Her facebook page rolls up in my newsfeed.  Her face bunched up in a selfie with Mrs B.

’17 years together. Happy Pride!’

I hover.  Heartbeat rises. Then I click ‘like’.

Then another.  She’s in a pub with Mrs B watching Mrs B’s team play football.

‘The things I do for love.’   She declares. I don’t ‘like’ this one.  Even in an attempt at magnanimity, that would look too false; I’ve always hated sport.

A thousand thoughts cross my mind.  That ’17 years’ minus the two with me, and the two with the famous lesbian novelist, and the six months she spent with my ‘heterosexual’ married boss,  does not leave Mrs B and B with ‘17 years‘… But we’re post-Brexit, post–truth now.  Everything is just another discourse!

(re: U2)