Recognising
Emotions
Brought
Out.
Unfinished
Not
Done.

You’re reading my poetry,
the inside of my mind,
written when the emotions crest and
I have to get them out.

You’re reading my poetry.
It does not hide a thing.
The rawness and soreness
the ups and the downs
the confusion, the spirals.

Why did I tell you where to find me,
here in this sea of anonymity?

It’s probably not a good idea
to fill a hole
with a distraction, but
sometimes a distraction
is better than loud thoughts.

You are back
in my thoughts and my heart.
Like a tenacious ivy vine
with importunate tendrils.
I’d thought I had put the feelings to rest—
you’re not mine—
but here you are again
in the memories, the thoughts,
the everything.

Something’s been dislodged
by a happy day.
My words again feel
free to float.
The playing with new friends
brought understanding,
and warmth
to melt that ice
in my throat.

I see myself,
going the wrong way.
I’m watching in slow motion
and I don’t stop it,
even though I know I should.
The emotional impact,
like a slow-burn of my heart,
has started engulfing me.
STOP going there.
But I keep doing it.