THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
You take me back to your friend's flat before we go out- the one where you stay when you're in London- a big flat block in Kentish Town.
We stand on the balcony while you smoke and they play T.Rex in the background. You've offered to buy me dinner but neither of us is hungry.
When we're talking, it's not the conversation that's interesting
I just keep watching all the knowing glances, all the looks your friends give you. I can't tell what they mean, but it happens when we speak, when you speak to me