We Used To Come Here Once

This is the place
we used to go
to set our transient minds
at ease and relieve
our fidgety boredom
brought on by insipid
winter days.

This is the place
whose grubby doors
swallowed us whole
at half past ten
every Friday night
and spewed us back
up into the tarmac outside
to be peeled off and sent home.

This is the place
where we shed infinite
tears and blood
and spilled our dreams
into the mouths of
pretty strangers
pulling skirts down as
we walked up steep steps.

This is the place
where disappointment sticks
like the red stripe and vomit
lining on the floor
and morals are turned away
without a ticket
by sinewy doormen
in lemon yellow t-shirts and black bomber jackets.

This is the place
where music throbbed in our stomachs
as the room spun us around
and we were dizzy
with happy, welcome, relief
that somewhere amongst
this grey town
we had found freedom.

This is the place
where we always parked
next to the lamppost
because it felt safer
and there were always
fights at the kebab vans
which we sometimes avoided
but never understood.

This is the place
we used to go
to smile at other people's
boyfriends and maybe
find one of our own
or maybe not
because every night was munter night
oh yes mate!

This is the place
remember, where we wore
pink and purple wigs
and feather boas
and danced on our own
because we could do
anything
because we were young and free.

This is the place
I fell in love
and spent four hours
grinning insanely
and also where
my broken heart
sought consolation
and left early for chips.

This is the place
where we shared our saliva
with shadowy outlines
and had our personal space
violated by wandering hands
on our way to the bar
where there was always
a queue for the toilets
no paper, blocked sinks.

This is the place
where we battled our inner demons
screwing enemies to the walls
with sharp stares
we stood our ground
and sat on it too
but mostly we sat on plastic chairs and bitched
about the girls with no bras on.

This is the place
where we stood in the car park
at 2 am shivering
avoiding broken vodka bottles
and waiting until the car was full
before driving the taxi run
only to get home at five
and have to get up at
half seven for work.

This is the place
that we used to wear
like a favourite pair of old jeans
but it no longer fits us.
We have picked the seams
and split the sides apart
worn a hole in the roof
and seen the stars.

This is the place that no longer has the power
to soothe our pain
yet we snuggle against it's security
every now and then
just to remember, reminisce,
that this was our place.
We used to come here once.