Last April...

It was my brother's wedding day, and I was sending filthy text messages all weekend to a new love of my own. In a temporary fit of madness we soon shared living quarters for a while (out of his generosity and my neccessity). The days were getting shorter and the sunshine was getting weaker, and the flowers of romance bloomed brightly behind the hothouse curtains, kept from freezing by the steam from our coffee and the warmth of our breath. The lino was cold but his slippers were warm, and as I stood stirring the food on the stove my cheeks were flushed by his gaze. We walked dogs across the morning frost and watched through the window as hail covered our footprints in the park.

'Hand in glove
We can go wherever we please
And everything depends upon
How near you stand to me' - The Smiths

This April I buy more blankets, extra pillows to snuggle up to, and wake to find my lover's-grip holds only my hot water bottle. I make my bed up with fresh sheets, and scented candles sit on the bedhead where the lube used to wait. Its the bed of a single person, mussed up only on one side, books strewn where another's body would lie. My toys are packed away for the off-season, not knowing when or if the game will begin again. I walk the streets alone and while I get the umbrella to myself, and the heater too, I'm colder than ever before.