you can’t trust yourself around cigarettes

although they still believe in you

get sentimental at the 100-metre run

and if the athlete could be cured

you’d get to bed at a respectable hour

but the heart wants what it wants

beats incessant on your walls

behind secret chambers where I hide

black and white films in the dark

if I call your name would you answer

or would it be my memory

and I can’t tell a drizzle from hurricanes

teacup tempest tide

if I could write poetry I might say it right

and if I’m gonna fall in love

I’ll find a writer with a gentler hand

immortalized in ink and paper

so you remember

but the heart wants what it wants

beats incessant on your walls

behind secret chambers where I hide

black and white films in the dark

if I call your name would you answer

or would it be my memory