words can sear and brand
leaving scars
the shape of bad memories

the marks are read each day
scrutinized in the hope
they've been misread

a spelling mistake
the wrong pronoun
anything different to what was said

I miss your parti-coloured waters mixing it up
and tumbling through the fruit bearing gorge,
a force to be reckoned with

and reckon with you they did.

You've middle-aged spread into a behaved oversized pond,
your energy channelled to serve others,
mannered and within bounds.

When did I become my mother?
I didn't see her coming.
I just stopped short one day after delivering
a dose of contempt and derision
and there she was
hovering in the corners of my mouth
keeping the world at bay.

I'll lie here a little longer
let the waves lap my legs
the water run over my hips and hug my shoulders.

In a while I'll lift my head and look around.
I'll see where I am
get my bearings.
In a while.

I'm beached
I'm resting
I'm tired
I'm sore
I'm shaky from a rough storm

Now I'm anchored on the wet sand.
In a moment I'll push myself up with my hands.
When I'm ready.

You sank into the chair, eyes red,
misery leaking from every pore,
boxed in, nowhere to go, dying inside ...
this is the price of another's cruel love.
It demands, not deserves,
eats, not eases,
relentless in its appetite

and still it is love ...

lodged in my attention span like
a noisy commercial, I was sold affection
with no guarantee of love

lying in my bed as if you didn't fit it
the sheets seemed to hover uncertainly
over your bullet body and baby bird kisses

unbalanced by uneven understanding
we straggle along a wet sandy *****
in the distance nothing gets closer