Friday night we walked along the beach
talking over a static sea
through all we wearily witnessed this year
still we speak in riddles
the way men often can
it only gets harder as you get older
weighted with expectation
You didn't turn to face me
kept your eyes fixed on the horizon
said 'she's pregnant' 
with a pregnant smile

Black boots kicking stones across wet sand
choking out congratulations
the selfish gene loudly screaming
'another friend down'
and all the drinks we shared, all that crazed fun
the possibility of our youth
all the talk for very different futures
slowly chipped away or in fruition
slowly eroded or made good somehow
Friday night we walked along the beach
as you drifted a little further from me
I wore my catastrophic guilt 
all the way to my lonely home 

Friday night we walked along the beach
for the last time in a long time
drinking cans and cracking jokes

Sunday night, we passed upon the high street
you leant in close and stammered 
'she's no longer pregnant'
and we wept in each other's arms...

(Nov, 2017)