The Moment You Haven’t Met Yet

The Moment You Haven’t Met Yet


sorry to stop you,

I know we haven’t met yet.

I mean, you haven’t met this me yet;

the me in this moment

with the moment we haven’t met

and the version of you and I we’ve yet to meet.

Let me slow down a second,

should I greet you with a hug?

I don’t want to make this awkward;

in truth we’ve met before, but not like this.

Last time I tried this you were pissed,

missed the significance of the occasion, of each other.

We could already have been lovers;

the universe is always at our fingertips

but then you kissed that person you were dancing with

and I realised you were kind of busy

and probably weren’t in the right place to be interested.

It’s okay if you don’t remember it,

we’ve all done shit like that before;

hoping there is more to life

but pass on all the stuff

we think we aren’t good enough for.

Settling for second best

like that night’s love bites on your neck.

I hope this doesn’t come across too forward

but it could have been me caressing your skin instead,

and I know just how you’d like it –

head resting on the pillow next to mine,

one hand each entwined,

the others sharing a pizza,

thin crust, extra mushrooms and garlic butter,

hot water bottle under the covers.

If only you’d seen me back there,

but your glazed eyes stared right through my body.

I guess it’s not easy to believe sometimes

that I exist as an entity somewhere,

but I do. I’m in your next breath,

the place you’re going from the one you just left,

I’m in the words in the text you’re about to send,

I’m the one that cleans up your mess.

I just wanted to try and introduce myself again

and I promise I’m not a stalker,

in fact it’s you that follows me until the end.

I’m not being shallow, it’s going to happen,

and I know we both like a challenge

but spending that long so close together

I thought it might be better to be friends.

I feel like a lot could depend on it;

the world’s got us down as a force to be reckoned with,

like we’ve got the power to change things around,

because you’re me, before you were you,

and I’m the next you that you’ll be after now.

It sounds complicated when I say it like that,

put simply, I’m here as the next step on your path

and I’m on your side.

So those thoughts you have are lies,

you know the ones,

where your mind tries to convince you of your lack of value,

like you don’t deserve the space

the universe creates for you to thrive?

When you wonder about the purpose of being alive,

try thinking of me next time,

because this moment of your life is perfect,

and how you are is perfectly fine.

If you were waiting for a sign then let me be it,

there’s nowhere else you need to be

because look, I’m here in the moment ahead of you

and I’m telling you it works out eventually.

I’ll make sure of it, trust me, we’ve got this,

all rivers must lead back to the sea

so we’re always flowing in the right direction,

every moment an opportunity

to guide us closer to the source.

So please don’t ignore what you have in the present;

we’ve all the time in the world for future intentions

but now, you can choose to just pause.

Forget all the ways you think past you fucked up

because we’ve got moment after moment after moment to make it up

and when we keep moving through each moment

then all that pent up energy gets unstuck,

because with each blink we can redecorate the walls of our mind.

Modify our thoughts with a paintbrush and colour them kind,

till our total existence mirrors a kaleidoscopic rainbow in the sky;

living practiced in the length of each heartbeat passing by.

Each pulse a chance to shift the atmospheric hue,

to weather love for ourselves and each other

like there’s both nothing and every single moment to lose

because someone else might just be having a tough moment too,

and on that note, this is where I leave you.

If only you knew what’s in store,

maybe this is the sneak preview you weren’t even looking for

but for now I’ve done my bit.

I brought you the lesson, I made sure you heard it;

tried to make it a message you wouldn’t forget,

but now that we’ve finally met,

I need to go and prepare for our next moment’s debut.

I’ve got a feeling it’s a life changing one to come into.

The Greatest Showman

The Greatest Showman

Monday’s papers sing your praises.

‘What a show’, they say,

‘what a final performance’.

Hear the echoes of an applauding audience

as you exit through the stage door.

The crowd wants more of your play pretend,

a curtain call to delay the end

of your tour de force,

but I’ve seen this theatre piece before.

It’s deja-vu, I don’t need to read the reviews

when I watched you write the script,

editing out the bits where your heart lived

and calling it a work of art,

calling it method acting,

like you were just playing the part of the bad guy.

Carving your lines into my chest

for it’s so easy to forget

where the breaks come, where you pause for breath

before cutting out the section

where I had your respect.

Now I’m nothing but a prop in your creative process,

one you dressed in full costume

and cast as the princess,

kept in a tower

like the damsel in distress you wished I would be,

one that needed saving and would never be free

until you rescued me.

But this is the Disney story that never made it to screen,

where the hero and the villain

are two sides of the same person

and the princess doesn’t know which version to believe.

His charm is all that everyone else sees

but with her it’s coercion, it’s invisible chains

that succeed in depriving her of liberty,

threats that prevent her ability to leave.

He tells her she’s easy, that when she speaks

to male friends it causes him anxiety

and why did she like that guy’s picture on Instagram?

He bets she wouldn’t care if he killed himself,

she wouldn’t give a damn, and that a week later

and her legs would already be open to another man

as she tries to convince him

to step away from the train tracks

but he says he can’t bear to be without her

and with another apology she decides to take him back

because as he says,

if she loved him,

she wouldn’t just give up like that.

His monologues win him an Oscar

and five stars in the national newspapers,

he’ll definitely be remembered

and she’ll never forget what he said

about where she’d find his dead body in the valley,

about how it’s her messing with his head.

Fed lies that spun a spider’s web

that make her blame herself instead,

speeches that made him famous,

convincing the world that it’s love in these pages

as she internalises all that hatred

and for biting on his bait again

he’s offered a residency in the West End

for his perfect portrayal of the heart broken victim.

So as the fans queue for his autograph

she’ll don her disguise and quietly slip past,

return to those train tracks

and follow them till she reaches the station,

booking a one way ticket to a new destination

as she’s plucked up the courage to say it’s not her role to fix him

and this time she’s prepared for the tricks.

Like every good actress, she’s grown a thick skin

and as the train leaves the platform, the lights dim

as she takes her cue to curtsy,

raising her head to watch the credits roll in.