I've reached the conclusion
that I'm not equipped
for breaking down another's walls
so you have to step forward
and give me some help
if you want me to make them fall

Cynthia Pauline Jones 10/10/2013

I could step in front of a speeding train
adapt a microwave to fry my brain
leap from a cliff or a tower block
be sure to land on concrete or rock
slit my wrists, swallow some pills
maybe that would cure my ills
plug myself in and throw the switch
leave a note that says "life's a *****"
hang myself with a ligature
a tight plastic bag would make it all sure
but there again it might be fun
to shoot myself with a stolen gun
if I had a sword I could fall on it
or a can of petrol and a match that's lit
shed my clothes, walk into the sea
then drowning would make an end of me
it's just one life, but even so
there are just too many ways to go
it's a heavy choice, there's just one end
so I'll postpone the decision and think again

Cynthia Pauline Jones 21/9/2013

The worst thing about abuse
is not so much the guilt
of feeling you're to blame
that you should never
have been so attractive
so irresistible, so seductive
though in all other contexts
you felt anything but,
were filled with doubt
and lacked self confidence

No, the worst thing of all
is the way that when
it's repeated enough times
you get used to it, inured
then in time there's a part
of you comes to welcome
that expected familiarity
need it even, participate,
share the other's pleasure

But the rest of you
rails against this
taking of your autonomy
this removal of consent
and that part wages war
upon the part that
gives it's acquiescence
and you are fractured
hating your complicity
despise that you made it
in any part your fault

Yet to have healing
requires you recognise
the part of you
that went along
was no more to blame
than the part that didn't
it was just a coping strategy
you needed to survive
after all what else
could you have done?

Cynthia Pauline Jones, 18/10/13

Not worth a valentine
roses, chocs or fizzy wine
yet again one goes out
and none, not one, come back

I thought that this year
would bring an end to fear
things set up to be different
yet one by one new barriers rise

Things are rarely what they seem
the old tale of shattered dreams
so much promise starting out
but everything turns to dust

Cynthia Pauline Jones 14/2/14

Another lone celebration meal
another year of down at heel
another draught of loneliness
another night without caress
another year at least until
another life can bloom in full
another year of wondering if
another hoop will materialise
another year of wondering why
another year has been let go by
another year to question whether
another year will bring me pleasure

Cynthia Pauline Jones 24/3/2013

Not so very long ago
when I was 62 or 3
I'd figured out the answer
as it applied to me
to that question asked
so many years before
"Will you still need me,
will you still feed me,
when I'm 64?"

The solution to this question
I'd worked out in my head
was very far from "Yes"
...a resounding "NO!" instead
but now the day has come
I'm more positively disposed
and think that there is scope
for the answer to be "maybe"
so I can live in hope

Cynthia Pauline Jones 24/3/2014

If my difference
fuels your desire
you'll need to work out how
you're going to light my fire

You might offer me presents
you might offer me love
you might offer a life of pain
you might offer a life of crime
you might offer me luxury
you might offer to buy my time

I'm an acquired taste
to which you might aspire
but before you get the flavour
first you must acquire

Cynthia Pauline Jones, 11/10/13

When you're sixty plus and trans
you don't get many offers
so need to issue them instead
when your life's been short of romance
it's hard to break on through
easier for invitations to stay unsaid

If you're younger, more attractive
it can be hard to understand
just what it's like for someone
who is far less in demand

So if I should give an invitation
remember that's all it is
don't let embarrassment appear
you can say "Yes" or "No" or "Maybe"
respond to the invitation given
not to some imagined fear

Cynthia Pauline Jones, March 2013