I don't know what to do
She said she loves me
Do I?
I need help
I don't know
What are the signs?

"On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee.
Mary was there with Jesus
and she nudged her son: 
'The wine has finished. This - is - not - good.' 
And Jesus said, 'Mum. Not now'. 

And Mary said 'Listen to your mother.' 
And Jesus sighed.

And Mary told the servants, 
"Do whatever he tells you." 
Then Jesus saw that it was no use arguing. And he said, "let the jars be filled with water". 
And they rolled the stone jars in front of him.
And then Jesus said, "Let there be wine". 
And they poured the wine.
And it was so - very - good.

And Mary smiled to herself,
thinking how Joseph would have loved this, 
and she whispered to Jesus: 
'This just the start you know.' 
And he did, - and it was. 

There was a mother's faith 
and gallons of glorious wine. 
And there was a mother's smile
at the sight of her son
and of this start of his new-vintage Kingdom 
with this original third day miracle. 
A sign of things to come.

And there was a party and singing 
and much laughter, 
with the Son dancing with his mother
into the evening - a Fine Third Day.

There is evidence

of what I had and did: signs --


of my existence.

We say goodbye, short

- long - stop, the signalling code --


of: I think of you.

I think I understand hookups and one-night stands now.

The key to moving on is to replace all that stood before
until there stands nothing that may cause you to unravel.

Moment by moment,
conversation by conversation,  
I replace the replays,
I can't bear the thought
of another touching me, like I'm not yours.

I got another ring today, all big and loose.
It's funny how I picked this one,
it keeps slipping off my fingers like you did.
It's been two months since I last wore your ring.
I don't see a difference between them,
it feels the same on my thumb.
and that should be the end of it,
but oh well, I guess it isn't.

I walked to the grocery store, paused at an aisle,
took my time frowning over chocolate bars.
You used to get me Munch, and so I picked the Mars bar.

I don't skip meals now, (well, most days I don't)
and in place of our routine conversations,
I play a random show.

I drown noise with noise.

My days are decent.
I'm surrounded by mindless jibber jabber.
I participate.
I paste a bright smile.

“You look well now,” they say,
“Well, I am” I reply.
And I am fine. (I think I am?)
9/10 times I am.

Then in a random mundane moment,
memories of you resurface like a ring light and
in that single moment,
I let myself crumble.

“I don't want him back.
He's changed now.
So have you and so what?
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
He's the love of my life.
Well don't let him in,
when (not if) he comes back.

Do it from love, not for it.
You deserve happiness.
Both of you do.

You want love.
You are love.
The ocean doesn't look for its water,
Why will you look for what you have?

It is what it is.
and this too shall pass.”

So on and so forth my inner monologue goes on,
and I stare at my phone wondering if I can conjure you from my thoughts.

I am kinder now.
With myself, and everyone around.
I wish I were kinder to you, but I was just a child.

I know you're proud,
and I am of you too.

Do you think I can sculpt my favourite version of you?
Wait, no.
I already did that,
I loved all of you
and then everything fell apart.

My thoughts swirl and I let them play.
Incantations in my head
Obligatory 3 am, weary sighs, contempt and rage.
Oh, so much rage.
Where is the calming lull of sleep, when you need it to sedate your despair?

Resignation sets in, I play a familiar game.
I ask the universe and unbiasedly it delivers the same day.

"Universe, give me a sign, I'm really done this time.
Yellow flowers if he's coming back,
Dandelions if he's not.
Universe let me move on. This is the last time, "

In my version of He loves me, he loves me not
I break flowers, not petals.

I look for answers in colours and not action,
And then I saw a dozen Dandelions.

guilted into yet another
late evening dog-walk
after too long spent
indoors and weighed down
by endless introversion
trudging an unlit path
free of the imposition
of street lamp
     and headlight
with nothing except
those familiar constellations
and a degree of
     lunular exposure
to guide our path
despite the cold and
that lingering feeling
of obstinate lethargy
we firmly planted
our mud-caked boots
upon the saturated ground
unstable and clogged
as it may have been
in order to marvel
at that moment
of unexpected perfection
perhaps it was simply
a case of fortuitousness
or sheer coincidence
but to us it seems
the universe is offering
more wishes than we could
ever have hoped for

Could it be a sign?

Oh no, signs only appear --


when you don't need them.