Broke Town

Hiding beneath the covers
knowing there was nothing
to eat, drink, warm
mattress on the floor
grubby blankets and old holed coats
you walking, guiding
me in a daze
to the doctor
pleurisy
waking days later
in a cold pinched dawn
you exhausted from looking after me
but still holding me up
to go the toilet
before I blanked out again.
Eating weeks out of date
crisps, bread, cheese
from a friend who had
just a little to spare
being unable to move
for the blaze of hunger
no tv
radio
or love
could shift
just sleeping
sleeping until money came in again.
There were little hustles
here and there
money to fill the gas meter
a few quid for the ‘leccy
something to heat up
that would make you smile
a few cigarettes
the only way that could
kill the pangs.
I clung to you like a drowning man
clings to the last wisp of ship splinter
knowing easy money ways
would tear you from me
nobody in the street
we lived
had a job
two pennies to rub
only eyes that could cut
ears sharp to opportunity
and
yet, yet.

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