The importance of good breeding

You hold your knife and fork like this,
working from the outside in,
naturally.
You sit like this, 
legs neatly crossed
and you speak about appropriate things
like the theatre 
or your favourite rioja.
You definitely don't talk about sex
or money 
and heaven forbid you should say "fuck".
You articulate conversation,
making sure not to offend 
and everything appears charming.
Oh yes, 
you fulfill all 
the little requirements
and perform superbly.
But behind closed doors 
when night comes 
and the sky is still,
I'll smile at you with  painted parted lips 
and you'll go all the way down.

On stars and insomnia

They creep across the sky,
prising at
 the cracks in my curtains,
O that they would steal me away.
and I could feel myself fade!
Instead they mock me in my sleepless state,
screaming at me and burning
white-hot
so that,
even when I bury myself
deep under my covers
and try to succumb to some sort of slumber,
I know that they are still there.
They seem invincible,
those spheres so swollen with
the promise of eternal night.
And yet, 
I know that when morning comes with tender tones,
it will bring with it some reprise
and I will start to reappear.

Secrets

He spilled his secrets
in the waning hours
as  friends sat down the hall 
in the living room,
drinking cheap wine 
and making even cheaper conversation.
He shared his heartache 
and laid his soul out before me
like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,
jagged and disjointed.
He told me about his drinking 
and the smooth white pills
which should have taken the pain away.
All of his scars and fears gripped at my chest
and made it impossible to breathe. Or think.
So I didn't,
and I let him make love to me again.