It might take some time, but I want to swear I’ll love you.
That you’ll see,
double agents of drama,
my tendency to talk before a comma can console you,
smooth things over like the marijuana used to,
it could be good.
It might take a fortnight but
I think forever’s closer, not before she disrobes
but definitely once her absence is
known at night.
It could be a while yet,
but I’ll know you were right in
ways I’d wished
you’d been wrong,
hauling on cigarettes, writing
to forget why I still to do.
It may take decades or longer to
I promise you’ll be
immortalised on paper as you are
in my mind.