Tony Martin's Page

LOVE

I always thought love was sex. So I got plenty of it. Eventually. That was after I thought love was giving yourself away. Oh I gave myself away. Only to be thrown away. So then I thought love was fireworks. Stilletos and blood red lipstick. Cars leaving before the Milkman. Sometimes sooner. I thought love was Wutheringering Heights. I thought, I thought, but I never knew.

Until now.

Love is being scared shitless and still not giving up. Its a cup of tea and a smile. Knowing the things you daren't look at, have already been seen. Its dirty sinks and Doctor's waiting rooms. Its giving all and not knowing what you'll get back. Its wearing odd socks. Wiping noses. Dead cats and shouting at other drivers. Saving slugs and digging up potatoes.
Its friendship, with ear muffs and hot sex.

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NICE

Before you know
Four letters, lost over fourty eight years.

Nice.
A kindness. Genuine.
No drama, no void.
No trying, trying, trying.

Just a cup of tea.
A slice of toast.
A touch of the arm.

It doesn't have to be like this.
Nice isn't just something that comes on saucers, for other people.
For the BMW, two point fours.
Sainsbury shoppers.

I want nice.
I want real.
I want fourty eight years of nice back.

Just a bit.
A little piece.

Sometimes.

(Tony Martin)