‘These two poems are from my debut anthology, Just About. The book deals in one way or another with just about everything I have thought, felt or experienced and so, of course, love is in there somewhere, between the lines, as it is in these two, or visible in every letter. All the breakups and the pain and the shame. But these two poems, to me at least, are like a break from all of that.
Sometimes you can meet someone and you know that they’ll never be yours and that they’re, to put it frankly, a mess, but you still let yourself feel something, those slow burning emotions lying somewhere in the interim between intimacy and lust. And maybe that’s enough.
The new anthology is available to purchase on my website georgetomsett.com’
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Are you mine ‘cause we love
the same Vines and fuck in my single bed
all the time? I found freedom and
finesse in muffled laughter and in the lust
of each caress, the suspense in moving the duvet
with my mind uttering, ‘Touché,’
our favourite compilation stuck on replay.
Because pleasure is simply a baby
covered head to toe in peanut butter and wealth
is just lipstick in my Valentino white bag.
I think of all the pleasure
to be had and all the wealth between trysts.
It’s like how you said humanity can be captured
in six short seconds, all that ignorance
was bliss, ‘cause if my heart could speak in Vines
he’d say, ‘Ah, fuck! I can’t believe
you’ve done this.’
What grows inside your soul?
I’m living off the land, the acres of smiles
and scolds, the soil and the sand.
I rake up the dregs of you unharmed
by this ex or that ex or Xanax, bouts of regret,
shouts on the restless internet, a million pouts
over coffee and cigarettes. I yearn
to plough, I reach for your high branches,
your high brow, unearthing the buried trauma.
And I’m still learning how to live
on whatever grows inside your soul,
still living off the land,
and the parts of you I can’t touch
I nurture the best I can.