Sometimes it’s just nice, to not be nice

To not be inviting

To not be warm

Relief:                                                        ­                  that’s love.

Not having to perform,
Just be in my form

To not do anything about anything
When there is something in doing nothing
With people who despite everything, think
                                                                ­               I’m everything.

I can’t tell anymore.

Being outside                                                          ­                 Being indoors

   ***** laundry overtakes my drawers.two days dirt saturates my
  pores.texts and calls being ignored.avoidance of all commitment.
          
I’m scaring myself.
                                                              No­ one around to help, to witness.
            What to say of                                     i s o l a t i o n  
                                                             ­   If it gives me a different sickness?

It’s time

I can always depend on you
To tell me when you are coming

Tremoring my bones,    quaking my belly
Permutating barometric pressure
Surreptitious signals transmitted through weather
             I trust you.
I know no need to seek shelter
A small price paid for what thereafter
And whatever of
Hairs that braze my face,
Puddled Shoes,
Skin dewed.
For your debut, pills easy to swallow
Aroma sublime sure to follow
Scent sweeter than lullabies
Adorning me          after I adorn the sky
           As your forward comes to an end.

I know we don’t deserve you, old friend.
But selfish a creature,
                I close my lids, I breathe you in.

I think it was Dickenson who said:

                                                  “My river runs to thee".
Or was it me?

Because if             I am                     full circle
                                you,                    my­ every degree.

In my kitchen
The double window skyward east
Distracts me often.
                                                          ­                                     I like to look out
And pretend I am someone else
Stronger and wiser
As to soften
The reality of my being with him
A man so cruel and brash.
So often so,
I tend to forget my tasks
At hand,                                        hence right now
I hear a sound
Perplexed to see I’ve dropped my eggs to ground
Against my luck,
The vinyl spattered in amber goo and gut
And here he comes, to inspect, I suspect
         
                                  My eyes squeeze shut
As precipitous dread fills my body
And his feet to steps come down

Because when it comes to my brutal baby,
Like these eggshells,
I must walk through
Not around.

After I left, on my first night
Prompted my journal, describe your now past life
Perhaps, things like:
The telephone boxes,
                     The theatre, the foxes,
                                            Ben, Battersea or the eye.
At worst, at best, simple a request
But against my behest,
I Immediately flustered
As only memory my mind mustered:
                  That feeling felt when I caught your eye
              
              And I just wasn’t ready to ask myself why
                 
I wasn’t able to say         
                                                                ­       goodbye.

I guess what often said is true,
Like what last heard to me from you:
                     You run from things you cannot deny.

I passed by a wedding,
Yesterday.                 Two lovers
                  Embraced
Smiles bright
On their face
Even though                  sun hot
And breeze hard to find
Joyful their hearts
So didn't they mind
For I?        Old sadness came by
For what they had
I surely                       would not
Regardless of the gratitude
For what I have got
The vision before me
As I walked up each step
Nothing could stop me:
Oh how I wept.