When I heard your voice at 10.30 this morning
Tears threatened to choke my words of remission.
I was still in bed and you were too, with the characteristic huskiness in your voice - one of the many things that I learnt from a year of playing flatmate.
You've witnessed many of my solitary meltdowns,
Picked me up and put me back into my mold to harden again.
You've stood close by me and watched as I feuded with reflections and
You always know if something's wrong by the way I say hello.
The time you were doing your hair in front of the bathroom mirror
And I sat crying on the toilet.
The summer days of zippo lighters and dread locks.