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angela brooks Jan 2018
Today I knew it was over. How did I know?
It was what you said, the reasons for me to “keep in touch”.
Not for you, you do not die for me. My time has gone,
Forever lost. You’ve moved on, I’m kicked into touch.
I have always known this thing, this dulled part.
It only shone when time allowed.
I never had, and now will never have, the whole heart.
angela brooks Dec 2016
there were six fish
now just two swim slowly and silently
one sleeps the sleep of the dead
in the water
one floats eyes staring glassy
Two missing presumed dead
i drink coffee and write
to the relatives.
angela brooks Sep 2016
He was sitting on the stone cold step outside the Co-op
A thin blanket around his thin shoulders
His outstretched hand reached out to me
And touched my heart.
I gave him the cup of coffee I had been drinking
He seemed pleased, I felt good.

I saw him again on Saturday night, he looked thinner
His face hidden beneath a ***** grey hoodie.
Once more the outstretched hand reached out to me
I gave him a warm blanket, made of wool.
He grunted thanks, I felt good.

One week later I went looking for him on the stone cold step
outside the Co-op
He was sitting on the woollen blanket,
his eyes shrunken into his skull
I gave him my coat.

He gave an almost imperceptible nod of his covered head
And stretched his hand towards me again.
I fumbled in my purse, and gave him all I had – he grunted “Huh”
I felt I’d let him down.

My friends said I was losing weight, my clothes no longer fitted me.
I gave my sweater made of cashmere
To the hooded skeletal figure on the doorstep
outside the Co-op

His jeans were frayed and ***** from the streets
I gave him mine, they no longer fitted me.
He looked up, his broken teeth bared in a forbidding, dangerous smile.
I flinched. His outstretched hand pulled at my wrist,
I backed away, he held me.

I tried to run but his fingers tightened their grip, digging into my flesh
He pulled me in the direction of my home.
His grip on my wrist burning hot

I turned at my door to see him, he grinned, his eyes seeking my soul.
His face now no longer thin, his bony fingers now fleshy,
his rotted teeth Improved.

I looked at my hand. I saw my reflection in his eyes. My face skeletal
with shrunken cheeks,
My shadowed deep set eyes
haunted.
He laughed a croaking triumphant laugh as he entered my house
And pushed me out.


I turned and my feet took me back to the stone cold step
Where I crouched down outside the Co-op
A thin blanket appeared on my thin shoulders
I held my outstretched hand towards an approaching stranger
Who walked on by.

©AEB 14.05.16
angela brooks Sep 2016
Out in the city sharing poetry
Bleeding my heart to strangers
Telling my life because they don't care
A smattering of applause, another drink
But what, my heart, have I opened up?
A can of worms
angela brooks Jun 2015
You, with your smile and smile and smile
What am I supposed to do
When you smile (in that way)
And take me all the way to rapture?
You, uncovering me, tasting me, knowing me
Who you never knew
Until there are No Secrets No Secrets No Secrets
Only me. And You.

— The End —