Sat  on  a  bench  in  the  park  today.
A  Chinese  tourist  was­  down  
on  her  knees.
Taking  photo's  of  the
daises  in  the­  grass.
We  would  never  think
of  doing  that.

Keith  Wilson.­  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

lend me a home,
or just a shoulder to lean on

is more than enough;
those two things
i can't do by myself,

no matter how badly
i try to believe:

for the heart is in my chest,
i am my own home;

for i already have two shoulders,
i won't be needing another.

but my head is too heavy
because of these sour clouds, my neck
might accidentally break.

she'd learnt to keep a shallow mind
so people didn't have to swim
and it led them all to think they knew
the thoughts she held within
but below the wading pool she made
was a world left unexplored
an ocean of her feelings
hidden under the pools floor
the waters turned to blackness
where not even she had dared to go
stretching from behind her eyes
to the ends of all her toes
she didn't want to dive right down
and find what lay hidden there
because she knew with all deep water
came a deadly lack of air
but she didn't foresee the lonely boy
who found a crack in her cement
broke free of her wading pool
and into the darkness he went
he told her not to fear her thoughts
as he took her by the hand
and swam with her to places
that their lungs could not withstand
in their newfound love they both forgot
the importance of their breath
and interwoven in the world they found
they both drowned in its depths

Nothing here for you
knife **** the platitudes
count my teeth
so vve
can be equal
brush aside the curtains
so curious of all the
tick
       tocking
                   love
    mocking
eons ago
black
         tar
              lip
                   locking
a death so LOUD
it's deafening
can you see?
are you missing?
can you feel?
are you listening?

This is me,
Looking for you in a dimly lit bar
Only to find you
Forehead pressed to another nameless girl.
This is what love looks like to me.
To aid and abet,
To give you the freedom you crave
Which does not come with the restraints of commitment.

This is what love looks like to me.
Giving all that I possibly can
And trying not to take too much from you.
Letting you do and say what you like
Being your accomplice, your friend
And never judging you.

But you make it so difficult sometimes.
When you say that you'll look for me,
But instead you're dancing with another.
When you say you're excited to be with me,
Then you sleep next to someone else.
When you tell me you'd do anything for me,
But then you forget me and our plans
At the earliest convenience.

I love you.
I would and do give everything I can to you.
But this act, these consequences,
Your point of view.
It all has me skewed. Diluted. Drained.
Done.

And I'm not sure really where to go from here.