by Alex Scott
That it’s normal to be hungry, all the time.
That the ball was not mine, is not mine, and never will be mine.
That badgers are enticing.
That seventeen years is enough to feel love.
He told me
that badgers are not as friendly as they may look.
and that you don’t have to like your own kids.
That bourbons go down quicker than digestives.
That water is precious.
He showed me
that boys can like boys, too.
That if you pour salt on tails they don’t fall off, even if brothers swear they do.
That food tastes nicer from a tea spoon.
That seventeen years is not enough.
He promised me
that the bed is more comfortable than the floor, as long as I am not on the floor.
That drool stains.
That strangers can fall in love and then leave, without patting your belly.
That the Tesco man is a burglar, all of them are.
He taught me
that you don’t need words to say ‘I adore you’
or ‘I need you’ or ‘it hurts.’
That being a little chubby won’t make them love you any less.
That grudges are silly.
Monty taught me to lick away the tears of sad people.
That fireworks declare war.
That the hardest goodbyes are the ones you never get to hear.