Dear god I miss you
and I dance to the blues
feeling sick all the while
my toes are anemic
there’s a frog in my throat
it’s all a bit wrong
and we dance to the blues
two left feet all the while
it doesn’t quite suit us
these bathroom tiles on the floor
the ballroom dancing to the blues
we don’t touch all the while
dear god I miss you
I haven’t seen you in weeks
it’s all a bit wrong
and all a bit blue.

he said he couldn’t breathe,
so they took his last breath

I just want it to end.

The hopelessness, the fear,
the constant critic in my head:
I've lived with them all for too long.

All I've ever known is this war, this endless battle.
There's nothing wrong with wanting it to end.
To wish that it didn't is cruel.

But why can't the best solution be the simplest?
Why do I have to keep fighting?

At times it's deafening,
and I'm so exhausted.

Why can't I just lay down in no man's land
and let this battle fall silent around me?

Why can't that be the end?

Because... I'll never know what's possible.

I am one of the shadows
growing in the dark
surviving off the grunge.

Rot and decay visits
me often, like two old
friends we have coffee
and tea every morning.

I reflect on the
coming weeks as today
fades away.

As I awaken dawn comes
walking through my door
as if invited.

I would rather live in the
sunshine cruising on
the beach barefoot in
a cotton gown that reachs
my ankles.

The sunshine likes to
bite me leaving red bruises
upon my skin. I still go walking
even though it leaves marks
and possible scares.

© 2020 By Amanda Shelton