Difference of opinion
I get the blame
No one is listening
Always the same

Years in the making
Years in this game
I know what is best
But I am no good all the same

Wishes falling on deaf ears
Because the love is to blame
Child like position
And that is where I will stay.

I am genuinely here for you don’t  treat my like a fool or use me like a tool .
My eyelids are sore for wishes that cause you cognitive disonance .

I am seeing you suffer and wither. I don’t have to
But I love you

So I quietly smother anything that does not mirror you.
To save .... I don’t know what because I think you’re a fool .

Is my , is here with me
Not a ‘used’ to be
Asleep next to me.

Is my, is my day to day
Not a ‘years ago’with a history.

Is my, is struggling to untangle all the difficulty.

Is my is the how are you? On a good day.

Is my is the time, the tone, the warmth and the embrace.

Everything else has no place. In my .

When I’m not with you it’s like elastic at full stretch
Thinning and tense waiting for the snap or relax.
When you come back my chest relaxes it’s vice like grip and breathing becomes the happiest, lazy summer breeze.

A softly placed forehead kiss melts into my skin and goes to work on every inch of my body like antibiotics reinforcing my white blood cells
Delivering a caressing calm as I inhale you.
Your arms keep me grounded and safe as I crumble at the reconnect
Gluing me to you with a warm firm hand in the dimples of my lower back
I’m electric on fire.
My heart has gone for a joy ride.
You’re home.

Long road of things to achieve ‘happiness’
Lonely road of empty nothingness
Barriers to your cause
Sit in your new chair and watch your big tv
Completely solitary

Things

Filling your space to capacity
Barking back the loudest, deafening, echo of silence

Everything you have is new except your outdated views

Things

Protection at the detriment of relationships
Arms reach to preserve
pushing the meaningful away

Roll up the nice rug the grandkids are coming to stay

Things

Sold on the page next to your obituary
No meaning or value to the remaining
You can only take what fits in the box

Things

Just like she did
And you do
I am doing it too.

Like unsightly knots on a perfect wooden table I want to sand, chisel and gouge you out .
The whole now bigger than it’s original size but at least all the rot is gone.
I’ll fill in your space with all the things you should have been.

When the system has broken down and people aren’t around
When what you’ve been told, isn’t what you’ve found

When your lonely but not alone
When your lost and feel like you might drown

I’m talking , but to myself.
Running on empty waiting for the cough, splutter and the stop .

Filling the silent chasm with self preservation
No longer feeding the sensory deprivation .

It ends, it always does .
In flames or a legacy for good.