discussions late at night

its after having a cigarette and dialling her number that my thoughts are instantly re-arranged in the order i want them presented. the truth is that i'm going to finally come clean about sleeping with her boyfriend. i am going to tell her everything, and i know she is going to demand that i tell her all the grimy details, and i'm prepared to do that, to tell her everything so i dial her number and wait for her to pick up. things are running through my mind, my imagination has already created several ways in which she may react, and i have come to the conclusion that i can cope with all of them. I just must remeber to act in an adult way and tell her my reasoning behind my behavior.
'Hi, how's it going?" she has picked up and already i feel uncomfortable considering im going to have to be the one who brings up the subjkect of the conversation.
'oh you know, just wasting time. The usual really. How are you?'
'fine. i was about to settle down to do some work, but i'm not in the mood in any way shape or form. how was the party the other night?'
'yeah it was good, i stayed till the early hours of the morning, got a cab home then spent the rest of sunday attempting to do work. By attempting i mean that i ate the entire contents of my cupboard and watched sunday television which is absolutley abominal'
'oh i actually quite enjoy it. The only reason i dont watch it more often is because its such a time waster, and i just dont seem to have the time to waste anymore. It's annoying the way that has happened isn't it?'
'YES, very. i hardly hae time for myself, let alone old friends.'
'i agree one hundred percent. at least it wont last much longer, after i finish this year it will be over. university will be done with and i will enter a fast paced world of reality. I just cannot wait. anyway did you want to discuss what the plans are for friday? i have a lot of work to do and cant chat, plus Charles is coming over and i want to surprise him tonight.'
'how are things with charles?' Finally i had my cue, i could tell her now, start crying and begin confessing, tell her how sorry i am that i slept with him, how it wasn't my fault (well not entirely true) and how i was prepared to do everything to make up. He was a stupid fool anyhow and she could do better. Sureley this would make her see it clearly.
'things are going well. very well actually. we had such a wonderful night last night, i really feel that we're opening up again, and you know how i got suspicious a while. Well i think he is actually being honest with me now, which is so refreshing. i don't know if i could hvae managed him if his behaiour hadn't changed, but the old charles is back. i'm thinking of initing him out with us, do you think the rest of them will mind?'
'i don't know...' oh no, that was a bad start, it's always bad to let them introduce the subject. i'm going to have to drop the subject. 'anyway look i have to go, i will ring you later. take care.' so i put the phone down. perhaps its better if i keep it to myself that i slept with her boyfriend. It's for her own god anyway.x

addicted

an obsession with her drives me,
this obsession makes me live,
this wakes me up each morning
although suffering i weep
and the pain weighs more than words
and the want is always there,
although time is passing by
it's her that i constantly seek.
she is there throughout my dreams
moments when i sit and sigh
and the world is constantly changing
no one ever asking why.
simplicity no longer simple
but difficult to maintain,
as thoughts are jumbbled
by memories that evaporate
discussions that allude
to things gone by-gone
dissapeared into the darkness
that is the void whole that is my mind.
My addiction asks for her,
seeks her everywhere in sight,
seeks comforts in her scent
reconstructs her touch, her feel
and the way i felt.
the want is great, the mind is weak,
and yet upon arrival it is not her i want to meet
it is the memory of her, lost, created, forgotten.
An obsession, forgotten.
It's the feeling i seek.
and this may be meek
but a full confession
it wasn't her i loved-it was the addiction.
It is me i want back.
it is me that is lost.
evaporated like a memory, or a stain in the water.