Casting for the direction,
driving forward and
worrying about additional penalties
that you’ll make them pay.

I’m flowing into this
new happy,
so our baggage is
unnecessary.
It’s there of course,
but it’s history.
Be there for them,
not for me.
Don’t pull me down
suffocatingly.
I stay afloat
away from you.

I’d do anything
For you, dear, anything
Yes I’d do anything for you…

Would I forget my dreams?
Anything.

I realise I’ve avoided this outlet,
this relief from ink and words
because my message isn’t bright enough,
clear enough.
Shiny and polished? Not enough.
‘Not loveable when you’re needy…’ worries the inner me.
Yet here, in this space of all things shared,
there’s no need to pretend.
No fawn response needed here
where it’s the honesty,
the brutal honesty,
that heals.
So, here I am again.
Stuff it.

I feel my strength unfold;
it holds my backbone
straighter,
straightened.

The blustery
wind of emotion
whips back my head and heart.
Anticipated jolt—
and stop.

But start again
slowly brewing
circling this issue
with thorny, prickly needles
persisting in their bite.

My spine is still straight though.
Heart may be sore,
but that strength—
still there, still here.

If your love is
an emotional barometer
then others need to measure.
The New was kind and clever;
but he didn’t bring
the right weather.

The day of rest
interspersed with activity.
And tears.
I am sadly glad
that my heart can now process.
If I give myself this day
Can I be better tomorrow?

It’s comforting that
the love was true.
Unintentional, but true.
That the care is still there,
but the book can be closed.

If that was a blast of love
I’d hate to see your hate.

Your blunt, forceful love
comes from fear,
rains in blows,
and leaves me -
smaller, sadder,
reactive—
reeling for equilibrium.

You’re pushing on buttons
that I didn’t even know I had.
Some of them, very sore.
Now I have to look at them
and work out whether I should
turn them off,
leave them pressed,
or remove them completely.

You know how it is
when your brain gets busy?
And it’s feeding you a loop,
a story that needs breaking.
Today my story’s on high rotation
and I am questioning the panic-dialogue.

Are my instincts really real, anymore?
Can calm rationality win out here
or is it, simply, a matter of the heart.

Emotional manipulation
wielded quietly;
with a reasonable face
or a compelling look.
I see you now.
I cannot unsee you.
Ever.

The tranquility
of this morning
Feels like numbness tonight
But I still feel
your gift of love
You gave it and
didn’t take it away.
It will keep me warm,
provide reassurance.
I’ll carry its glow
within me
as I continue on.

Snippets of happiness
Full rose heads,
chicken sounds and tickles
grins and giggles
on the trampoline.
Playing shops with you,
cuddling close,
cooking food with heart.
Breathing new life
into me.

Christmas.
Feelings heaving,
still reeling
from this tumultuous year.
I pretend only for the children this time
Beautiful girls, voices high
sparkling eyes full of magic-
Santa’s been here!

How deep is this love,
how mature will it become?
Will it flash in the pan,
decisions made rashly,
lives upended?
Or will it burn,
stoked by the twin flames
of friendship and desire?
I’m pulled slowly,
bitten nails clawing,
into the feelings of
buoyancy, trust,
positivity, possibility.
Are my nails clean enough?

Heartbreak
Heartbroken
Seeing you was a balm
Our love acknowledged
Your marriage reaffirmed
Closure.
Oh the relief of closure.

Why is it that
your happiness
seems inversely proportional
to mine?

Why is it that
your happiness
seems, perversely, disproportional
to mine?

But when we were together,
your lack of happiness
consumed all of mine.

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

For when I forget
and get drawn into pity,
responsibility,
unnecessary accountability.
Again.
He’s narcissistic,
he will take and take
and never be healed.
Don’t forget.

At heart,
it suits him this way.
If he’s not better, then
all attention is on him.
I did enough
I did so much.
Don’t forget.

These trauma responses
that are still arising,
this hyper vigilant stress
at home
when the kids get excited
(don’t get too noisy!)
are the scars.
It was abusive.
No guilt, no more.

Don’t forget.

Tell me your dreams,
float them up high.
I’ll help to propel you
up into that sky.

Fast flowing messages
pinging back and forth.
Electronic endearments
cannot mean a lot.
Genuine questions and
invitations to meet.
Within myself
my soul calls for caution.
These men are ephemeral,
chase a photo.
My soul calls for real.

I ask myself
Are you the one?
If you are the one,
then let us end this madness.
Let us be together.
My problem is,
I’m not certainly sure.
What if the ‘madness’ ends and creates
more.
Oh the storm that could be unleashed.
I miss you.
I don’t know that you would be able to live up to
What I need you to be
but perhaps you’d forge your own path.
Would having love, touch, talking
sustain us?
There are waves of longing, needing
Forced space eases these feelings
eventually.
But is it worth it?
Are the feelings real?
I think they are
I just don’t know
if they’re trustworthy
Or if my ability to walk away
without looking back
is something I should remember
and hang onto,
to avoid you
putting your eggs here
and for them to then be broken.

Let me be free
from your emotional
highjackery.

From your
manipulation
of my life's situation.

Playing hostage --
is the price of your stability
the loss of my positivity?

This is a game of
important odds.
Our girls are not the prize
but the precious treasure
to protect.

Get yourself together
there can be no losers.

You are optimistic,
cautionless—
enthusiasm personified.
I am circumspect,
tentative—
still healing inside.
You wanted no drama,
sounded good to me.
Then we met and you declared yourself
there by the sea.
I worry I’m damaged,
emotions impaired.
I seem to need time
before I get there.
What if I hurt you
by letting things grow?
I’m wanting to learn you,
that’s when I feel that I’ll know.
I love your smile
your focus on both of us
the words that you whisper—
you want to be in love.
Your touch is so skilled,
it’s a revelation.
I want this to unfold,
but no need to hasten.
There are things that scare me—
your restless history,
financial rebuilding,
for some reason the loss
of that second kidney.
We like talking for hours
connect effortlessly.
Your care, commonalities,
joy, sensuality—
they make sense, they catch me.
I feel like you match me.

At heart
I’m scared of feeling
always apart.
Do we all feel this?
Does real,
tingly, deep love exist?
I am grateful,
enjoy so much.
But what does it feel like,
that soul-deep touch?
Not the marriage’s silent,
walled anger.
When I lived with an almost-stranger.
I have people here, with me,
but often feel separate,
bedrock of uncertainty.
Are my efforts fleeting,
or a self-fulfilling prophecy?
I remember, I am lucky,
because I do love me.
Truly, really, certainly.

The thing that hurt most
was no touch,
no talk, no intimacy.
Or acknowledgement of my pain.
That coloured my everything grey,
and made my efforts feel futile.
Made our life seem fake.
Pretend.
You settled into a life
of grey subsistence.
When I wanted
all the colours.

I could run away
from the words you might say.
Triggering me into flight
if they’re not phrased
quite right.

Here’s my trauma
bubbling up.
Here’s this new instinct —
now that we’re close up.

I see my fear
and vulnerability.
I also see strength here
keeping life steady.

So the next step
is to talk it through with you.
Listen to both sides
see what good that can do.

Listen to instinct
and listen to truth
Listen to heart song
rather than be aloof.

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.

Grateful for the quiet,
grateful for the peace.
Grateful for the friends
that care for me.
Grateful that he’s fading
away for me again.
I’m needing to stay here
I’m needing to mend.

If making mistakes
Is part of growth
My mistakes
Are certainly helping me grow.

Happy non-anniversary to you.
I marked it emotionally
but I forgot what the day was.
I marked it by
processing, tracking my progress;
taking a very rare breath to reflect.
I recognised the barriers still left,
looked at ways to overcome them.
You meant so much once,
and now I forget.
Happy non-anniversary
to me.

My head and my heart
Are usually at war
My head wins the first round
And my heart
Settles in for a long
campaign of insurgence.

Beautiful girl—
curved cheek,
laboured breath,
hot skin,
flushed face,
closed eyes,
rhythmic breathing.
Tucked in close.
Get better soon
my love.

Hey
where are we?
It’s confusing.
It’s been this way
for a while now.
You feel better,
you let it out.
Me— wrung out.
Emotional tsunami
no clarity for me.
Was that healthy?
Or extremely un-so.
You want time with me.
Ah the irony.
You want quality time?
Ah the angry.
The angry.

Explaining the feeling
is a task;
hearing the meaning
is a gift.

A beautiful day;
fourth date.
Good company,
smiling eyes,
winery, views.
Kissing, holding.
He’a so careful for me,
so kind.
I need to be careful for him
because I like him but
I’m not sure that
it’s a heart match.

My friend has breast cancer
I look at her
and admire her bravery
her heart, her strength.
Her ability to look at her challenge
right in the eye with courage
and a smile.
She looks at me and says -
she feels the same about me.

Husband going back
To hospital
Suicidal
Mental health
Oh my god
Not again
Panicking

I broke free
But feel so guilty
Is it my fault?
They say not.
Couldn’t survive with him
Can he survive without me.

Hidden away
in plain sight,
in my skin
and in this light

Hidden away,
but I see
what is here
inside of me.

Do you?

You’re paying homage to me
with your touch along my curves and edges.
With your golden, intense eyes.
With your kiss, your adoration.

This paid homage stirs me,
shakes out hidden grief,
reopens closed space,
unlocks dammed love.
Starts a new journey of ‘we’.

You’re paying homage to me,
aiming to reach me.
Intentionally, joyfully,
breaking down my
solitary
reality.

Little steps at life,
in the right direction.
Thinking about big pictures,
thinking further than this day.

Little steps at living,
joy in smallest corners.
Opening up my vista,
broad horizon to explore.

If I see you
what I want to know is
where you are at.
I want to gauge you
by more than words -
by actions.

I want to tell you about me too
I now see, I've spent this life
denying my internal voice.
Doing what my head told me
over what my heart intuited.

I want to be listened to
in my small words and actions
in the small treasures of every day.

You brought alive in me
This feeling that my inner thoughts and musings
are worthy.
Not silly, inferior, or lesser.
I have been living and sharing them
(with my new poet friends) -
it is a great gift.

I didn't know that someone else
would find them interesting
and find them beautiful,
and be able to say:
me too.

You were the first for that.

‘I’ve something to tell you...
I kissed someone else.’
‘You kissed someone else?!
That can’t be true, who?’

‘How could you not notice me,
you had many chances to see...
I don’t know what I want,
but this is honesty.’

He storms away, slamming door
out into the night. Then -

‘I’m sorry, your actions are yours but
it’s my fault you’re there...
please, I’ll get help, be your friend
I’ll get better, I swear...’

‘I love you’ says he
‘Why, truthfully?’
‘You’re so beautiful...
I don’t want to fail..’
But beautiful is a trophy, a conquest
and marriage isn’t a contest.

Actually, I now see
The kissing of someone else
was me, breaking free.
I’d broken long ago
his promises felt hollow
I was clutching at saving me.

My joy, our family, our life
all millstones to him,
burden and strife.
The endless trying, ideas and hope,
Fell on deaf ears - I was just the wife.

Then I stuck around, tried,
grief searing inside.
Let him touch me (excruciatingly)
give flowers and hold me...
but it was gone with old tides.

And simple jealousy tipped him?
Got to be kidding me.

I read that we all have
an inner creativity
begging for release.

Begging for the light of day,
with us, even when ignored.
Within us, always,
for however long it’s ignored.

Then, if we embrace it,
however clumsily…
lo and behold!
It brings us joy.

Intuition,
what’s it for?
Pay attention,
it needs more.

Kernel of
emotional truth.
You’re very
inconvenient.