Not Much A Poet But A Criminal

-14-

The sun shone through what was supposed to be called a window, but judging by the size it was more of a letterbox on a door.

I rolled out of my bed, reaching to rub my lower back from the pain caused by the harsh metal frame and lack of comfort from the thin 'mattress'. 

I glanced across the room to see my cell mate still sleeping. There was no way in hell i was gunna wake him up. I had lied to Frank about my cell mate being a killer. He'd murdered four men whilst robbing a bank. They put murderers together I guess, no matter if it was for intentional purposes or defence.

It was around 7am, the time they always woke us for breakfast. I pulled on my grey hoodie and slid my cold feet into my boots, heading for the door. I say door, it was more of a giant gate, waiting to be unlocked by the guard.

He came round eight minutes later and freed me from my cell, only to eat and then return, awaiting his next order of releasing us for 'rec time'.

Half an hour later and I was back in my room, my cell mate awake and lying on his bed, watching the ceiling. He did this all day everyday. Just stared at the ceiling. We didn't talk much. In fact the last time he opened his mouth to speak was the day I arrived, giving me his name.

I was allowed paper and a pencil luckily, and spent my time drawing and writing untill the guards came around again to take us to the next 'activity'.

We didn't have the privilege of roaming free between rooms. I guess when you murder someone you're not trusted to be around too many people, even if there are four guards in the room at the same time.

It was a Friday, which meant I'd get to see Frank later. That raised my mood drastically. Last time he'd left, I was taken back to my cell by one of the guards, but he handed me a small letter as i was locked back up again.

It was from Frank.

It kept it under my pillow every night, occasionally re-reading it so I didn't forget about him. Not that i ever could.

The letter read;

Gerard,

I often find myself mad at the fact that you're in prison, but I correct my accusations by remembering that it was you who told me to leave you that day in Vegas. I should be mad at you, for leaving me, for making me leave you. But im not.

As much as i'd love for you to be here with me in my arms, but not in Brendon's apartment because im already sick of watching them making out on the couch and coming home to hear moans from their bedroom, I can only sit and wait for the day you return to me.

When i get really sad, I just think back to the day you first walked into my office. Man I wanted to fuck you, but I had to be 'professional' and suppress my urges. But then you just went ahead and jacked me off in my chair, and I thank you for that. If you'd never shown an interest in me that day, I would have written you off as unfuckable, the same way I did with Brendon and Ryan, knowing they were already close when Ryan joined.

But alas, I must await your return my love, we shall be together once more come the tenth winter full moon.

Fuck I can't wait to have my mouth around you again.

xo frank

On the back of the page, there was a song he'd written.

He'd continued in his messy font;

So i'm no singer or anything, but i came up with this tune on my guitar and wrote these lyrics along with it...

~hand in mine, into your icy blues,

and then i'd say to you, we could take to the highway.

with this trunk of ammunition too, i'd end my days with you, in a hail of bullets.

im trying, to let you know just how much you mean to me.

and after all the things we've put each other through.

and i would drive on to the end with you, a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full,

and i would feel like there's nothing left to do, but prove myself to you, and we'll keep it running.

but this time, i mean it, i'll let you know just how much you mean to me.

as snow falls, on desert sky, until the end of everything...~

It's still a work in progress, I know you don't have blue eyes or anything, but i wanted to share it with you anyway

xo

----------

3pm.

Frank should be here by now.

I was patiently sitting on my bed, waiting for the guard to inform me of my guest and guide me to the visitation room.

A few more minutes went by. I assumed he was late or busy taking other inmates to greet their visitors.

Another 10 minutes.

20 minutes.

30 minutes.

He was never this late. Maybe Frank was late. But by now visitation hours would have ended.

I sighed. I guess he could'nt make it this week. Probably out with Brendon and Ryan or looking for a job.

I lay back on my bed and held his letter against my chest.

-----------

Gerard waited every Friday for the guard to take him to the visitation room, but he never returned.

Gerard didn't know why, but was hurt that Frank had stopped visiting him. He didn't want to admit to himself the possibility that Frank had met someone knew. He never took Frank as the cheating type, that was Gerard's deal. Up until he realised he had feelings for Frank and stopped.

Gerard didn't want to lose hope in Frank. He loved him. He knew he loved him.

He lay back on his bed, another lonely Friday afternoon of waiting, as the quiet words he'd written weeks before danced lifelessly from his lips.

"If you were here...i'd never have a fear..."

"But I miss you more than I did yesterday..."

"You're so far away..."

"Cause I mean this more than words could ever say...you're beautiful..."

"Well i'm a total wreck and almost every day..."

"We are young and we don't care..."

"Your dreams and your hopeless hair..."

"We never wanted it to be this way..."

"For all our lives...doyou care at all?"