I signed my name...

Your name
Attached to mine
I took your name in mine
Took your hand in mine
That was a different time

But back to today...
I took a pen to a page
And said goodbye
To that time
And the lying
And crying.

And now I’m not yours
And you’re not mine.

You’re free to be
And Choose how you’ll be
And you can no longer hurt me
I can be free.

I hope one day, you’ll see
All the harm you did to me
No bruises, no bleeding
But you’ll remember the anxiety, the screaming.
and now here’s me
With a little bit of PTSD.

But baby,
I won’t be there to agree.

Im taking care of me.
And taking back my name.

Stop chasing me,
I see you watching me when I'm waiting at the bus stop,
I feel your presence when I'm preparing my 1 sugar 2 cream coffee,
I know you're with me when I'm counting sheep as I'm falling asleep,
you're there in my nightmares,
your reality is the maze I am trying to escape from.

Live,
so you can tell
your story of survival
to the people
who need it.

I'm afraid of reflecting on myself.

The pressure of expectations of the selves over the years leaves a bitter emotion.
I want to stop writing.
I feel cold.
Palpitations.
The fingers want to retract into balled fists.
The instinct is to curl into fetal position.
The voice lets out a primal moan of agony, of what the self has been through yet knows it hasn't gone through utter despair so the moan fades into a whimper.
The eyes want to close, the eyelids squint, the eyebrows scrunches, the forehead raised.
Irregular breathing.
The back of the hand smashes into the wall behind him.
The fingers loosen.
Silent screaming.
The soul cries out.


..............................................................­...Haaah...


I need a glass of water.

The sea is resting now
after a long day
gnawing at the edge
churning in deep hollows
ever so slowly eroding
this peaceful coast

Sand is the issue
of this marriage
sea and sky
combining to
make the land large
in its retreat

A handful of sand
to the winds
my life
to these tides

I dealt death today.

I know it’s a part of the job.
I know I’ve seen it too many times to count.
But today,
I felt it.

I left the room long after their family did.
There was no where I could go
To escape their

Roaring grief.

They were long gone.
And I was left with their precious baby.
I curled his arms and legs up
Closed his eyes
Wrapped him up gently.
With love and respect
Here he’ll sleep forever.

And oh,
They are so thankful,
That it was me
That I understood
That I was so careful
That I spent the time with them.

And you’re not supposed to take it with you.
You’re supposed to leave it
When they walk out the door
With one less goodbye.

But I took it with me today.

The way they felt before
The way they felt after
The long quiet goodbyes
The man in a suit on his knees weeping
The mother and son making a cocoon
Sheltering their dying baby.
The solemn face of the woman who plays god.
The green death.
The last breath.
The heaving of the living as he gave his last.
The waiting.
Slower rhythm.
Quieter.
‘He’s gone now’.

I watched the clock
The same way I had
An hour before
Waiting for death.

Soon as I could
I fled out the door
Ran into the street
Tried to outrun it

Instead I ran to you
I dialled your number
With shaking hands

I know I’m not supposed to
But all I wanted was you
Your voice

Ringing out
Thankfully
I wept alone.

Today I dealt death
And I found I am not strong enough
To sustain this
Alone
Or for long.

I found I still consider you my haven
Deep down
But that you are not my haven anymore
Or should be.

I listened to the silence
After the call rang out
And decided

Remember that old uphill trail
We used to meander along
With matching footsteps
Under the sunlit canopy of leaves
Carving words for each other
On the bark of aged trees
Who may have known
what would become of us
But nevertheless smiled
acted as a blank canvas instead
And watched the moments
Filled with playful laughter
Peachy smiles
Lingering gaze
Warm caress
Unfold lazily between us
The winds of time
May have blown us miles apart
Our footprints may have long eroded
That sunlit canopy may have withered
And we may walk that trail
Only in our dreams
But those words are yet to fade
they were the voice of our soul
Etched into the lap of nature
And as I run my fingers along its rugged edges
I reminisce about you
And hope that wherever you are
You are thinking about me too