Rejection is an earworm
Playing in your head,
"Not here, not now."
Sharpen the pencil lead.

In the dark streets of
unhappy endings,
where needles numb the
pain in a dying vein.
The missing and the lost
light the skies
as colours flash and dance,
waving their goodbyes.

Memories
are like fire,
they can execute
or inspire,
satiate
cooked on a plate,
deforest
when
filled with hate.
Running like lava
through
varicose veins,
embers smolder
ready to ignite,
or extinguish the
remembrance.

Social Media chops like a cleaver.
A truth optional blade comes down
to deliver clean edge fodder
for others too pick and ****
like carrion gleaners.
A broadside to crush after
the initial hack.
Hold the handle with great care,
and far away from you.
Too heavy to wave about
like a fencer's foil.
Its damage is ugly and
spreads like the spurt
from a jugular.
Social media chops
like an unforgiving cleaver.

This fragile body hosts an infinite soul
whose human form may not be whole.
What may appear a tragic rift
is in fact a precious gift
to those whose spirits are attuned.
Extending our own body and soul
to others is what we truly know.
Often outside walls close in
with loneliness and credit cards spread thin,
as advocacy with officialdom weighs in.
But nothing will change what you do,
for this is what carers know.
Each body hosts an infinite soul.

Seeking shelter:
From the cold of loneliness,
From the rain of tears,
From the heat of temper,
From the frost of fear.

When you find that shelter -
Make it home.

Doing what we think is best

In memoriam of the  once shared nest.

Vanished love stained with tears,

Over the head over heels years.

Regrets remain so raw they peel

Cuts ****** deep only time can heel.

Empty now the heart beats on.