#notes extrapolated

Emilia looks on me fondly Dark hair unravelling, falling Over her living shoulder She leans, cups my jaw In her pale fingers.

Emilia says; My Patroclus, My Pylades, My Horatio, My Grantaire.

Words falling from her tongue Almost erotic.

I reply; My Achilles My Orestes My Hamlet My Enjolras.

I dream of a woman Holding a knife And by God-

By God isn’t she beautiful. I step on the tube in  Daylight, far down the distant Tendrils of the Piccadilly line

Change for Central at Holborn Up the escalator, up I used to be terrified of these things. Emilia turns, wind whipping through

Her dark hair, face blurred ‘Woman die alone in tragedies’ Not me, I think, On the escalator at Holborn,

Not me, not if it’s you, The knife in her hand- The tremor in my throat, Thrumming in my blood, my sternum

Emilia the winter is coming on quick And I am cold. I am putting on my snow boots now; Digging through my wardrobe for a scarf That does not itch

Emilia one day and a thousand years ago You will be real and I will be a star in the sky, But for now I will resist  (The call of the void)

Emilia I would rather be in love with you Than easeful Death- The winter is coming on quick, You know the rest.