Lydia's mother
sliced the bread thinly
and buttered sparingly
and handed Lydia

two limp slices
and said
get that inside you

can't have you going
everywhere
with your stomach rumbling
people'd think

you've not been fed
Lydia took the two slices
and a mug of stewed tea

but she hadn't been fed
that was why
she went and got
the rolls and bread

but she said nothing
just nodded her head
and followed her mother

into the living room
and sat at the table
her big sister
had gone to bed

her father was sleeping
off the beer
Lydia nibbled like a mouse

a thin long haired girl
of a mouse
can I go up West?
she asked

up West?
her mother repeated
as if her daughter

had sworn at her
up West?
she said again
turning the words around

in her head
to see how they fitted in best  
can I?

her daughter
asked again anxiously
you can in the sense
that it's possible

but if you mean may
as a permissibility
then no

her mother said
what?
Lydia said
uncertain where

she was
in her request
your gran always said

that the difference
between can and may
is one of possibility
over permissibility

said Lydia's mother
may I go?
Lydia asked softly

no you may not
her mother said
why not?
her daughter asked

because I said so
her mother replied
why do want to go there?

her mother asked
Benedict said
he was going there
and that he'd take me

Lydia replied
oh him
her mother said

she sat and took a bite
from her sandwich
picturing the boy
from upstairs

in the flats
with his hazel eyes
and big smile

and self assurance
about him
why does he want to go
up West?

she asked
he likes adventures
Lydia said

adventures?
her mother said
repeating the word
as if

it were unknown to her
who does he think he is
Biggles or someone

like that?
Lydia sat nibbling
frowning
holding the bread

in her thin hands
he's never mentioned Biggles
Lydia said

don't talk
with your mouth full
her mother scolded
Lydia swallowed

the bread
he's not said nothing
about no Biggles

Lydia said
well you can't go
her mother said firmly
looking at her daughter's

thin frame
and lank long hair
do you mean I mayn't?

Lydia uttered gently
I said what I mean
her mother said
and don't get mouthy

like your big sister
or you'll feel
my hand

across your backside
Lydia nibbled
and looked away
a train steamed crossed

the railway bridge
leaving grey white smoke
behind it

lingering there
unsettling the air
her mother muttered words
but Lydia didn't listen

she watched clouds
cross the sky darkly
carrying a storm

or rain
she liked her backside
as it was
she didn't want

no pain
she'd not ask
again.

Helen and you
walked home from school
the long way
you wanted to show her

the man
in the pie and mash shop
cutting up eels
for jellied eels

or for the pies
how he would stand there
with his knife
and take up an eel

and holding it
firmly on a board
would cut off its head
and then proceed

to slice it up
into small pieces
and into a bucket
on the floor

and when you showed her
standing outside the shop
peering through
the window

she said
O my God
and put a hand
to her mouth

and spoke
through her hand
and added
poor eels

to end up
in someone's stomach
and the way
he cuts them up

and the pieces
still moving afterwards  
and she moved away
and walked up the road

still holding a hand
over her mouth
you don't fancy
pie and mash then?

you said
not with eels in it no
she replied
through her fingers

you smiled
not funny
she said
poor little eel creatures

yes I guess it is
a bit brutal
you said
but fascinating

to watch
I don't think so
she said
taking her hand

from her mouth
you both went under
the subway of the junction
she slightly

in front of you
her two plaits of hair
bouncing
as she walked

her green raincoat
tied tight about her
you whistled
so that it echoed

along the subway
bouncing off the walls
all along
the artificial lights

giving off
a surreal sensation
how can people eat eels?
she asked

just the sight
puts me off
don't know
guess they don't think

of it being eels as such
just as something to eat  
you said
you both came out

of the subway
on the other side
and walked along
the New Kent Road

by the cinema
she looking
at the billboards
through her thick lens glasses

are you sure your mum
doesn't mind
having me for tea?
she said

well we're not actually
having you for tea
we usually have
beans on toast

or jam sandwiches
she slapped your hand
you know what I mean
she said smiling

no Mum don't mind
you said
she invited you after all
I pleaded against it

but she wouldn't listen
you said smiling
Helen's face frowned
and she stood still

really?
she said
no I'm joking
you said

and she nodded her head
uncertainly
looking at you
through her glasses

I'm just kidding
you said
you touched her hand
she smiled

and you both walked on
and across the bomb site
the uneven ground
the puddles of rainwater

you your mother's son
and Helen
a lucky woman's
daughter.

is seemed the only reasonable option.

i wanted to crawl out of my skin
                   crawl out of my mind
                  and even the solace of  
a sleeping unconscious
rigidly refuses my pleas
defies me
like everything and everyone else.

hot water
candlelight
the aroma and feel
of lavender and eucalyptus oil
only pull me deeper
into sorrow and despair.

i. can't. do. this.

what next?
i already tried white russians
   a sleeping pill
        allergy medication
              "the privilege of the sword"
  
                i tried thinking hard
and not thinking at all

                     i try to steel myself again life
                 become hard
            uncaring
            i try not to give a ****.

but it's all pathetic attempts
      to go against my nature.
                              my nature dictates i cry
                         that i thrash against this
         that i reach out again and again
that i make an utter fool of myself.

i opened the window...maybe the air will help
(it won't.)

i'll put on music to soothe me
(it will do the opposite.)

i will disrobe
slather lotion on myself
i'll climb into my bed
with my stupid purple hair
and cry into my blankets
while sad music plays.

eventually you will find me asleep
among twisted blankets and tears
likely clutching a pillow
for dear life.

i will awake to find
nothing has changed
and use all my strength
to get out of bed.

i'll force myself back
to my desperate searching.
i'll vow not to make a fool of myself this day
and fail.

i will push my pounding heart back
so that it is just a whisper
and just face that fact

that      life      b  l  o  w   s.

That girl spoke of her boyfriend so sweetly. She claimed they were in love with only a week of knowing him. But the way she spoke, it was almost like I could believe her.

And then I look at us, and our relationship. Almost a month now. I think we've been doing well. No serious fights yet, although there are times when we get under each other's skin. But we've been alright. Happy, even.

But love? Do I love you? Do you love me? How would I respond if you said that four lettered word?

Quite frankly, I'm afraid I'd run. I'd hide away to someplace where my feelings could not be confronted. When we hold hands, I feel the warmth of your fingers, but no spark. When I meet your gaze, I see your eyes but feel no connection. When you kiss my lips, it's a dull process and not some heart racing adventure.

I guess what I'm saying is that I want that 'sweep a girl off her feet' moment. The kind there are in books, movies. When I read of the ways another human being can affect your heart, I wait to feel that with you. But it doesn't come. Am I being ignorant? Am I a hopeless romantic looking for something that doesn't exist?

Imagine the guilt I will feel if you tell me you love me and I can't say the same. I wish that not to happen, because even though I don't feel that way yet, I still like you and don't want you hurt.

~Your Kay~