After You

Second Poetry Society meeting -
we're all sitting in a clumsy ring
in Rowena's living/bedroom.
And I'm watching his reflection
in the dressing table mirror...

That's when I realise he's flirting
with the skinnier, prettier nameless blonde
at his side. He's looking at her the way
I'm looking at him, and their heads
are bowed together in laughter.

My chest tightens... Then suddenly
there's so much sound in my ears!
Like I'm an agoraphobic leaving
their house for the first time in years.
Stepping out - don't like what I see.

I'm spinning back round, banging
my fists on the door. I want to go back.
I WANT TO GO BACK!
There are sirens in my head, screaming:
"Relapse... RELAPSE!"

Shit! I'm panicking - but despairing
over such an attack. I know I'm better
than this... The rest of the evening
passes in mute alarm. Until finally I escape;
burst out into a black, bitterly cold Durham night.

The stars are wheeling above me,
and it's as if I've been punched in the stomach.
You've been waiting. Stepping out from the shadows,
you offer me your arm - say you'll walk me home.
I tell you to piss off; I don't need your pity!

You shouldn't be here, and we shouldn't be
having this conversation. But you don't move -
wait patiently for me to calm down.
There's a hint of snow in the air as I breathe -
slowly... in... and out... Better.

Carefully, you lead me back up the hill,
telling me it'll all be OK. Everything will work out -
some things just take time. We're all allowed
a wobble now and again... And my problem
is I never take my own bloody advice!

Reaching Mary's, I'm half-blinded by the lights
of the Williamson building. Fiddling with my keys,
I'm wondering whether I should ask you inside -
nothing wrong with that. But as I turn around
to thank you... I realise you've already gone.