Bedside table (Mrog)

Poison

I used to say you looked like poison
But now you look like rain.
You look like the cracks in my ceiling,
The warm sky,
Satin sheets,
And to look at you for as long as I wanted,
Would only be forever.

Thursday nights were never something that came easily. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and every other day, except for Thursday could be spent behind the dodgy Tesco on fourth street sharing a blunt with someone with an actual personality, and someone personable. George had been his long life best friend, dating back to high school when he clumsily ran his lanky body strait into Matty's, causing him to fall and break his thumb. Though Matty's first impression of the giant was not one of liking, he hopped in the strangers car not minutes after their meeting, as he insisted he drove him to the hospital. Out of that became Matty and George, the two names that were so frequently said together, they were like Q and U.
But today wasn't a Monday or Tuesday or a Saturday for that matter, but a Thursday night, the one day a week Matty had to spend time with his girl friend and pretend that he wasn't thinking about George. Yea, they were together more than just Thursday, but Thursday was the only day he couldn't come up with a lame transparent excuse that Gabby could see right through. Date night.
It wasn't that he didn't like Gabby, no that wasn't it. She was beautiful and charismatic and deserved someone better. But no, wasn't that he didn't like her, in fact he quite did, but that was exactly the problem. He didn't love her, and he didn't think he ever could. Gabby wasn't his type. And not because she was a girl, but because she wasn't George. See Gabby was like sunshine and and blue skies, but George was like poison and rain and the color red and late nights and all his favorite things.  Everybody knew he was in love, except for maybe Matty himself. But as he sat across the table at a restaurant he probably didn't even need to make reservations for, drinking the cheapest wine and half listening to Gabby's day, he thought of Friday, and how he would keep once again to his routine of smoking weed and acting like nothing else mattered with George, that neither of them wanted to change.

///

I am grateful to have known you,
From the start,
At your worst,
And to have held you during your best.
Because tangled in your dark red sheets,
There's nowhere else I'd rather be.

He woke up on Saturday morning, tangled in a mess of sheets, completely undressed, with a familiar warmth of a body pressed up against back. Rays of sunshine hit his face as he slowly rolled over, not to disturb the sleeping person. As he studied his lovers face, he memorized every fault, every freckle, and every single inch of his pale yet warm skin. He could have stayed there for hours if it wasn't for the shift of breathing and eyes opening that shook him from his trance.

"Matty, love, how long have you been staring at me? It's a bit creepy I'd outta say." George's scratchy morning voice sounded up, deep and sultry making Matty want to moan out loud, but of course he didn't, because that would be weird.

"Oh fuck off, mate." He finally said after regathering his brain from where he left it. George always left him speechless, to the point where George almost expected a pause before Matty's sarcastic retorts.

"We're going to the city today." Matty spoke up again as he got up from bed to retrieve his clothes from being scattered across the floor.

"Okay." Was George's simple answer. Matty felt eyes on him as he struggled to tug on his tight pants, the ones that George always said made him look like a twat.

"Are you checking me out? And I'm the creepy one?" He said mocking George. And instead of defending himself, George simply laughed and continued to stare.
When they left that day, it wasn't without Matty placing a small slip of paper where he put his heart in ink on George's bedside table, on their bedside table, amongst the various books and water cups and seemingly endless scraps of other poems Matty had written for him in the past.
It was a sort of unspoken thing between them. They knew what they were doing. Girlfriends would come and go but there would always be George and Matty. Bonny and Clyde. "Name a better fucking duo" as Matty always said.