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He only kisses her cheek because she pushes it toward him and purses her lips,
He looks at the ground while he smacks his lips at the air,
Only touching her cheek with his, but her lips on his cheek.

He doesn’t put his hand on her waist because she hasn’t asked him to,
Not out of chivalry but out of fear,
Fear that he’s overstepping a line and he’ll be labeled,
Labeled as an opportunist, or a misogynist, but of course he won’t be.

It would be perfectly normal but not in his eyes, for his lack of confidence destroys any normality that should come with a usual social interaction,
But he does wish.

He does wish that the corners of their mouths might graze briefly, just once,
And that they might share eye contact about it afterward, saying no words but a thousand things in the way that they look at each other and he’ll wish that she’d take his feelings from that brief, physical and innocent interaction that he thinks of her daily.

That he cares for her, though they do not speak regularly, nor are in each other’s company often.

And that’s only hello.

Goodbye is a hug and he keeps it brief,
Careful not to over-linger for exactly the same reasons as before,
He bends slightly at the waist and leans in with his collar bones as not to appear intentionally over intimate.

He says goodbye to the ground and tells her that it’s good to see her,
He calls her ‘mate’ as not to come off affectionate with words like ‘darling’ or ‘lovely’ or ‘sweetheart’ and he walks away wondering.

Wondering what it would have been like had he looked her in the eye and told her the thoughts he has,
Innocent and sweet, though they are,
He doesn’t tell her for the same reasons as before, and he beats himself up.

He beats himself up for his lack of courage,
His lack of confidence,
His probable lack of appeal,
His negativity,
His anxiety,
His everything,
And he’ll never be wholesome.

He’ll never be wholesome, happy nor satisfied because he doesn’t have the guts to go after what he desires, no matter what it is.

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Afternoon.

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I have to come to terms that she’s sleeping next to him tonight,
Tomorrow we’ll carry on and pretend that it’s alright,
Everything’s fine with me
We’ll lay together and I’ll try to imagine how he held her,
Just so I can hold her differently and she’ll be able to tell us apart,
And when she feathers my lips with hers I’ll pray she’s doing so differently than she does with his
I wish those eyes she made for me were just for me but I’m sharing
And I have to be okay with that, because I’d rather have half of her than none at all

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It’s that beautiful orange kind of light that we like. The kind where we can sit next to each other without a word between us and just look at it, let the light wash over us with ten strings on our laps; six on mine, four on yours.

We don’t have to hold hands, or look at each other. We’re just in the right place at the right time. We always are.

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I’m selling four prints here.

http://depop.com/en-gb/ajrdurham

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Playing around.

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Home.

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Walked past the London pride parade on my way to work. Nice to see a lot of bright colours, smiling, singing and dancing in contrast to the bad weather. Such a privilege to live somewhere where we can freely love whoever we want.

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Don’t play with matches.

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Sometimes your perfume makes me sneeze,
But I don’t mind, cause you’re right next to me.

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My VSCO username is alexjrdurham.

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A week or so in photos.

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I met most of the family last night, both near and far, sans their physical presence, and mine. I sat at the foot of a bed, on the hood of a car, window shopped for televisions as I eavesdropped.

She told me her body had sung and I needed to hear it’s song, and like a siren I heard her. I heard her and nothing else in those moments. The only sound in the world which did nothing but freeze as it bled away. It didn’t exist outside the walls we were in.

Our hands were the heat of the room and our lips closed a circuit. Our chests hard pressed together for as much contact as possible. Muscles tightened and loosened and writhed and we were two arches that hummed with electricity colliding with the sweat of our backs, shooting sparks that could stop a heart. We each other were consumed though stayed whole in spite of devouring one another completely, but we shared it all and gave everything that we had taken back with no inconsideration, not a wasted movement or thoughtless touch.

And I swear had you thrown water on us that night it would have turned straight to steam and hissed at the same pitch we were breathing - sharp and harsh, desperate to refill our lungs with some cold air to cool our bodies down, but it was useless, and we didn’t mind.

Later the sun would rise over my shoulders, it’s beam silently flowing from her middle, to her chest and finally her hair like a golden vail pulled up from the ground. I thought to turn around and see it for myself, but for only a second having realised the most fetching sight my eyes could indulge had been facing me all the night and most of the day before.

And she was better than the sun, for she could laugh and talk, kiss and love, hold and be held, and she would do all of those things better than the sun could, but I daren’t tell another, for I’d like to keep her mine until I’m told otherwise.

Ajrd.

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The nightly storm starts small
Like it always does
Starts with a half, like sometimes
The red
Imbibe all the darkness
Nothing pure
Nothing clear
I tap my heel against the chair
Around a hundred and twenty times a minute
This isn’t the anxious tap
This isn’t the twitch
Not yet
This is the momentum
The ball is rolling and it’s gaining speed
And then the little glasses come
Filled to the top with agave game changer
Eight or nine of them
Some for those I don’t know
I don’t know their names
I don’t want to
I don’t want a thank you
Shut up and drink
Head back
Slam the glass down
Carry on
Still strangers
I just don’t want to drink alone
More momentum now
We crescendo
We peruse toward the eye of the storm
Chaos now
Testosterone and beer. The place is rife with it, and it stinks
Speyside this time. No ice.
Down in one.
Now the twitch starts
This is the level I’m at home
Because I can’t remember
The real me
The venom
The intolerance and the ignorance
The hatred for those around me
Nothing but discontent
And I lash out because I’m better than you all
I’ve seen more than you
I had the hard life before this.
You were given this all on a plate
I know it
I fucking know it
I irritate for a reaction
Come along
Roll up roll up
Free hits all around
And she tries to stop you and I
She gets between us
We put our fists down and roll our eyes
Nothing wrong with a good fists up
Then blackness
I fucking pray it’s a king hit
But instead I manage to stumble the four miles back to the cave I call home
Dirty walls
Dirty thoughts and dirty time spent here
Then I remember the piece of shit that I am
Sweet to the untrained eye. Bitter on the inside.
I rub my eyes and take the pain killers before I yet again, make the apology phone calls to one and all
I promise I’ll never do it again
Until next week
Until I convince myself that I’m fixed and tonight will be different

Ajrd.

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I’ll make them and keep making them
I can get away with it
Because I am a writer
I am a great literary contributor
To no one
I’m the twenty first century Bukowski
I’m Hunter S without the acid and mescaline
I blame them for letting me think I can get away with it
I’ve got finger tips like lightening
Fire in my belly
A storm in my head
An ego to match
Hey look at me
Look at me
Look at me
I can write three pages a day
I can come up with ideas
I’ve got a pile of note books
I’m a real writer
I gather material with a whisky in hand
Then I black out
I’ve got a coffee stained desk
I’ve got a worn out keyboard
I’ve got an ash tray full of old butts
I’ve got bad posture i write so much
I’ve got a section on the floor worn out from pacing
Just like a real writer
Aren’t you fucking impressed?
All this work I’ve done that’s never read
I can get away with this because I write
I’m not just some ignorant asshole that can’t hold his drink
I don’t want to hold my drink
This is important
I’m important
“More beer” - good advice Charlie

AJRD.