I may be
Losing my mind.

The secret of it
Is
I don't mind
As much
As I thought I would.

Every body
Wonders
What is wrong
With that girl

And I sit
Still singing
Snatches of songs
Out of tune

i'm cold
and damply
drowning in
all these
blackish
tones and tunes.

it's hard
to find
a song to
err on the
side of
brighter hues.

especially
when i'm so
frostily
submerged
in these
tonal blues.

When I gave up, I pretty much just stopped, like two feet firmly planted into quicksand. I just stopped.
When I could no longer take a step, I just let my arms fall down to my side, fingers spread and just sighed.
Chin tucked to my chest, an even breath, then a scream that only echoed on the inside.
When I stopped screaming, I was still sinking and the crushing absence of movement made me bold. I struggled and I flailed but to no avail did I become free from the quicksands hold.
Within reach of my fingertips was a ghostly branch, from a tree that had weathered sicknesses untold. But still that tree reached out for me and as I took hold of it's ghastly brittle fingers, and even now in my mind it lingers, I took that tree out by the roots to sink in cahoots beside me, lingering in this quicksand.
I immediately apologised profusely to the tree that now sinks beside me.
The tree answered back, no, please it was I that lacked the fortitude to save thee.
Oh no! I thought, it was my troubled mind that led me to sink so deep, it was me who should weep quicksand tears for the tree who fell for me so blindly!
So me, and the tree, used each other, you see, one to stay afloat and the other to lay down finally,
to hold another up kindly.

.

*I have written a dozen messages now
(probably more, no definitely more)
I word each one as carefully as I can,
telling you how much I miss you,
how lonely my days have been,
how I am doing ok (not really)
and I hope you are too,  
only to get to the bottom, the final line,
and typing out, I...well you know,
then stare at the screen and
think about it for a few minutes
before hitting delete…

wishing each time I did
it was me that disappeared

I live in fear
                  and worry.

While I'm here

everything is a slight
                           against me.

                           Noone to go to and
          nowhere to flee

                 The only thing keeping me
   here is money

Tell me all is well
                                        No need
to hurry

But the clock
is ti           ck   ing

                                                                 I can't see

                                                       what I'm mis sing               ?

              nothing matters

                               more
                        than money  ?

Within the centre of your being
May you find peace
Every act of unconditional love
Echoes in eternity
Spread your wings and dance
Dreams into reality
If your situation  won't change
Then change yourself
The optimist is often as wrong
As the pessimist
But he is far far happier
Choose happiness

A hundred people, having known our girl,
who knew her love, and loved her in return,
came to her funeral, and there were others,
too distant, too fragile,
or too old to understand,
who would have come as well.
You were not with us, families and friends,
to see her coffin go stately to the fire;
you were not there to see us spread her ashes
on hillside and seashore, say a last goodbye.
But you, who never knew of her in life,
you also wept when you heard of her sudden death
from haemorrhage in the brain,
aged thirty-six and pregnant,
as if the facts,
the words alone, were tragic. You were touched
by the death of one whom you had never known.
You shared our loss.