Gorgeous is the woman
with storms in her eyes,
a bruised soul
and many scars
but still dares to open up,
to trust with her heart
and fall in love
that is a woman
who bleeds stardust
and cries
tears of pure love….

I can still feel her hand
On my shoulder
She's face down
To my right
With her arm
At ninety degrees
Her hand, not gripping
But laying
Embracing
Where my arm meets my chest

I lay to her left
But now firm on the floor
With the ceiling light off
And only a half closed door

But the warmth on my shoulder
Even just to remember
Makes it comfortable enough
That I can sleep where ever

I find you in the margins of old school books,
in the cupboard where I keep my old notepads,
in the stories I’ve forgotten I’ve written.
It’s all scraps of myself in rounded letters,
uncanny because it looks like me,
sounds like me,
but it’s you and it is you
but it’s like me too.

I’m opening you (and me) back up and I hate you.
I hate you, but here we are,
in the mirror maze,
all these mes and yous
in the endless tunnel of mirrors,
back to back, side to side,
caught in ourselves at every angle.
We’re all the same: We’re all so different.
None of us are good.

I hate you.

I hate you at every age,

Then reality splays, sprawls flat out in front of me, exams, money, work, decisions, tight nooses that bind me to life. Get your head out of the clouds, girl  *(2012)

at every stage,

Big smiles, A stars, clever girl, the anomaly, dry compliments, sand paper against my skin. Locked in, not a word, just a mind gone grey, a growing mass of dust that swallows the light and only allows for glasses poured half empty* (2014)

at every moment,

I don’t fit in, never have done, never will. I’m always one step ahead or one step behind. I’m never quite there. But no one understands. They say they do but they don’t. I’m different and I don’t like it but I don’t want to change because this is who I am and whatever happens, I have to put up with it (2012)

all your hatred, you happiness, your ignorance and your sadness

The scab peels and leaks. Too soon to heal, too late to undo the fall. Tomorrow, you’ll trip again and your skin will bleed but this time you’ll know where to find the first aid kit. (2013)

You make me sick.

The world was blue today, a metaphorical wish wash of tears and a meagre ocean. Ice cream dripped in depression, picnic blankets snagged on pebbles and the kite committed suicide on the telephone lines. (2013)

I hate the scraps you’ve left behind

I put bits of you in the bin. I put you out for recycling.
I donate you to charity shops and so you live on and I can’t get rid of you.
There’s no way out of this mirror maze,
no way to avoid the mirrors at angles,
no way for me to escape you or for you to escape me.

There are so many of you and I literally want to beat you all to death.
Oh, I hate you. I hate you.
I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything more than I hate you.
I hate the tone of your words,
I hate your stupid sadness.
I hate your happiness.
I hate your hope.
I hate the memories of your laughter.
I hate the memories of your fun.
I hate you for all the things you’ve done and
never had time to feel bad for.
I hate you in the photographs,
in the words, in the schoolbooks,
in the poems that I’ve shared,
I hate, I hate, I hate.

I wish I could smash up this maze of mirrors and you,
but then I’d only be left with myself
and I hate her too.

I'm fine.
No really,
I promise.
There's nothing wrong
There never has been.
You worry too much
I'm just having a rough day.
Then
As my open casket is cried upon
My pale, emotionless face
Conveys the reasssurance,
"I'm fine."

Princess  smooth  cool  Princess.
Will  you  ever  be.
Contented  through  your  lifetime.
To  forever  stay  with  me.

Princess  perfect  Princess.
Your  head  I  gently  pat.
As  you  purr  softly  on  my  knee.
A  contented  little  cat.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2017.