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its the way
you past by
me or
the way your lips
curve upwards
when you
find something
amusing or
even the way
your eyes
twinkled but
i know i'm
none of those
to you as
i'm just me      
                    
                   f.n
first poem,hope you like it
you told me
that things
will get better
and you are not
going to
leave me alone

but

its been
two years
and things
had not been
getting any better
and you have
left me for
another
 May 2014 Olivia Mercado
nivek
Bugs
 May 2014 Olivia Mercado
nivek
all manner of flying insects-
appear from nowhere-
but somewhere indeed-
fragile lives lived-
in the fast lane-
no time-
to waste on trifles-
a summers warmth-
will not last past its time
 May 2014 Olivia Mercado
nivek
deep into forever
my soul is eternal
vast and incalculable
my soul is eternal
my soul is eternity
deep into forever
vast and incalculable
my soul is eternal
my soul is eternity
deep into forever
Please
stop me if I speak to much
but don't blush when I punch you
when the brink of my preach gets rough
cause what kind of lover am I
and what kind of family man
who leaves when he wants
letting go of softer hands
and with no thought out reason
cause it was christmas and I loved you
and soon it will be christmas again
without either fingers
or arms or wrists or anyone
tearing toys on the floor
I want more of this
you see
but I fight a demon inside of me
& he doesn't like to see me happy
does he
 May 2014 Olivia Mercado
nivek
it rung me dry the teenage years
trying to run to a future
and exhausting the moment
the one single moment
that was mine to steal
from those who didn't want
to even try to understand
I had a life and that life was mine
my mother is losing her words
or at least, misplacing them
(there may well be,a great pile of them, lying around
lauguishing, somewhere
)
her mind is slipping,
on it's weary and
hard-work-worn cogs.

she sometimes has difficulty,
grasping new concepts,
or attatching two thoughts,
coherently together.
and sometimes the blankness behind her eyes
reaches the horizon and beyond.
(and scares the very dickens out of me)

we have lots more, doovers
and thingies and whatsits,
in the house...
and usage of these and other,
all purpose words,
that lead to subtle guessing games,
has increased manifold,
creating  conversations,
that drift, into the territories of
"remember the kid with the
doover thingies,
red....on his head.... on his head" !!!
(the boy with the beautiful
red curls and corksrew ringlets
)

perhaps having been,
away and now returned....
i see this more  clearly.... whereas, whilst, living
with it daily.
....you just compensate ... and move on.

my brothers  do not want to know this.... and nor does she want them to....
they,
have busy lives.....
(note the irony lost and languishing here)

i am concerned,
and speak to both her doctor and the bluecare nurse,
who comes to  help with her abulutions and dresses the abrasions from her latest fall.

they say things like,
she is, within the healthy range for her age, 85.
however, there is marked
depreceation in certain areas.....
we need to keep an eye on her...
( and i am reminded of my old combi, sad but true)

in the meantime...
mother, no longer does the cryptic crossword, citing it as mere balderdash(these days)
and we often find the daily
incomplete...
this is tough.... my mother
so quick of wit.....my mother
so clever in turning a phrase
...... this is tough
not alzhiemers...or dementia..
perhaps aphasia... and small
strokes.... watch and see.

we, at the start of the year
moved her into a granny flat
behind our house....she is close enough to keep an eye on.... but still able to mantain her independance...
which is of tantemount importance to her.
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