I lack.

I’m beyond confused,
And feel I’m twelve steps back.
Clarity, clean lines,
Is something that I lack.

Lays hearts.

When you fear a fear,
That makes no sense,
But it still sits there,
Cold and dense.
You turn away,
But it come back in parts.
You can’t escape,
What lays heavy in hearts.

Tired eyes.

Sucking air into lungs.
Closing tired eyes.
Life can hit you hard,
So much your will, it fries.
Focus on your heart,
Your purpose and your goal.
Who knows? Maybe one day,
She pull find you’ve become whole.

Still cannot.

A journey I had not expected.
Signs leave me confused.
I am not sure of what I’m seeing,
What crutches are being used?
I keep on, keeping on.
Eyes open, holding thought.
My heart is bruised, battered,
But it still cannot be bought.  

To take.

Regardless of your efforts,
There can always be a mistake,
And that my earnest soul,
Is the hardest thing to take.

The blight.

Afeared of any action,
That might make things worse,
Makes this period,
A blight and then a curse.

Mental fiddle.

When you’re hit between the eyes,
And are still very much reeling.
Dig in deep,
You can drown in what you’re feeling.
I am hit between the eyes,
And in winded in the middle.
Is this something to focus on?
Or just a mental fiddle?

Focused.

Like scales falling from my eyes,
I am drawn.  Hypnotised.
I am challenged, I am drawn on.
I am focused on the one.

That sphere.

“Bare with me?”, she’d said,
When she meant, ‘Can you wait,
Without that look of judgment,
Without that look of hate?’
“Bare with me.”, she said.
She was repeating to be clear,
That neither of them was happy,
In that moment, in that sphere.  

Yet still.

State the obvious,
Rub it in.
Do it with,
A facetious grin.
State the obvious,
Show your hand.
Yes, I’m wobbling,
Yet still here I stand.

Forever.

Amidst the fire,
This burning shell,
The broken soul,
And mind as well,
You my heart,
Are the gift, the treasure.
I pray that we have,
Forever.

Have become.

Deep breath.  In. Out.
Here we go once more.
Pull myself up,
From the damaged floor.
Deep breath.  In. Out.
Wish for something more,
But this message is in repeat,
And I have become a bore.

This door.

Too tired for all of this.
Yet it keeps on coming.
It’s that point in a song,
When the guitarist keeps on strumming.
I am desperate for the words,
The key change, something more.
I am waiting, but not patient.
I want to shut this door.

That look.

I see the look,
Could meet yours in return,
But what would be the point?
There’s nothing to earn.
I see the look,
And I close my eyes.
I’ll see that look,
When one of us dies.

Dirvish whirl.

‘Brock’ned’ as my grandma would say.
Thankful, still, I very day.  
Blessed with the beauty of my girl,
Though the rest of it is a dirvish whirl.

Stung.

I don’t feel fully formed for this.
I still feel far too young.
I try my best continually,
But how your words have stung.  

On.

A day of pieces,
With no releases,
The hope has gone.
This thing goes on.

Glue.

You can keep trying,
Keep turning up,
But it doesn’t mean,
Things have to look up.
You don’t turn up each day,
Just for you.
You turn up for the people,
To whom you are glue.

Dusty

Remember what brings you joy.  Celebrate your joy, your gifts. Honour, make the most of, what you were made for.   Beauty should not be hidden away, For only the few to take joy.  It should be lived every day, by all,Not hidden away in a dusty, privileged, mausoleum.

Your floor.

I can see how you could convince yourself.
Life seeming to roll on as before.
It’s just occasionally you get a reminder,
That there’s nothing solid below your floor.  

Pendulum.

What’s the point in weeping?
It doesn’t change a thing.  
Hold that heavy heart,
As you watch the pendulum swing.

It seemed.

I dared to hope,
Dared to dream.
Enjoyed the moment,
But it’s not all it seemed.

What brings you...

The moments of confidence,
Can leave hours of fear,
Questioning yourself,
Is what brings you here.

What will.

I can not put into words,
What’s passing through my mind.
My thoughts are spinning, dancing.
When I fall, what will I find?

Steady.

There will always be something,
But there’s a tiny shift today.
I hope it grows.
I hope it gets chance to stay.
Dark times are ahead.
I know it,
But am not yet ready.
I need more of this,
To help me balance, steady.

At the point.

Though love powers my engine,
It’s fear that controls me.
I’m at the point where only change,
Is something that’ll console me.

That I were wrong.

When hope isn’t working,
You have to face the hurt full on.
You just keep on shuffling, moving.
I wish that I were wrong.

Outspoken.

Survival,
Without judgement.
Revival,
Without judgement.  
Hope and grace and fortune,
Wistfully combined.
When desires are outspoken,
And not hidden, ignored or mimed

Shore.

When it hits you hard,
That your life,
Is nothing like it was before.
All you can do,
Is check the view,
And try and spy a shore.  

Like a Foy.

Lost,
And in need.
When was happiness,
Greed?
Desperate,
For simple joy.
Every night,
Feels like a Foy.

On and now.

A train I keep on catching,
A journey on repeat.
My heart is crumbling, damaged,
And of the wrong thing, now replete.

A dance.

Wishing, hoping, wishing,
For a return, a chance.
Wishing, hoping, wishing,
For life to return to being a dance.

Dig

Sometimes you have to dig and mow, 

In order to watch the flowers grow...

In its tatters.

That we carried on,
And you grew,
Is almost everything,
But add that you knew,
That your glow, your shine,
Is what truly matters,
The rest can fall,
Be left in it’s tatters.  

Ever right.

Dragged into darkness,
When reaching for the light.
Nothing will ever now be simple.
There is now nothing ever right.

Sheen

Escape is not an option,
When you’re caught in the machine.
This is the life that’s left,
When it is lost it’s sheen.

This dire.

Is that hope on the horizon,
Or just St. Elmo’s fire.
Things cannot surely continue like this.
The world can’t stay this dire.
I am grateful for the glimpses,
The sparks of Kairos time.
I am eager for some peace, though,
A time I can call mine.

Fire and fades.

When there is no more normal.
Life is mirrors and shades.
That’s when your soul,
Loses fire and fades.

Too fast.

It will not go.  
It’s tied too fast.
The innocence,
Is in the past.

Someone sang.

I am forever changed.
The girl, that woman? Gone.
For someone,
Sang her song.

Unknown path.

It’s not time to make decisions.
It’s time to tread in water.
Don’t take an unknown path,
When it could lead a lamb to slaughter.

Payment.

This is my place,
My heart, my space.
Leave me with this,
My moment of bliss.
Take the rest away,
The high price I pay.

Knife edge.

Balancing on a knife edge,
Teetering, knowing the fall,
Is any moment away.
When will life not be a brawl?

Would that not.

Oh for another time,
A different time,
When life wasn’t this.
Oh for the thing,
That this isn’t.
Would that not be bliss.

Please.

Please.

A time.

Some days you want tomorrow.
Others, yesterday.
I just want a time,
When things go more my way.

Cannot say

Ricocheted,
Through the day.
I’m unsure what to feel.
In a day that feels unreal.
Cannot say,
What nerves did fray,
What impact will be left.
Will I be left bereft?

No longer.

Broken, damaged, bruised.
Tender, jumpy, confused.
Life is something far,
From what I thought would be.
Inevitably,
I am no longer me.

Rungs.

The effect it has on me,
It makes sense that it will her,
But I cannot let it go,
Thus cannot be her burr.  
I’ve carried it, not freed it,
And now I have a scar.
The thought it will carry on,
Is one rung too far.

Gaping.

Looking to escape.
This is more than just a scrape.
This is a gaping sore,
That feels forever more.

Hurry.

Trying, moving, flexing,
But doing it with worry.
Your mind is not on point,
When you’re in a hurry.

Will pay.

Hold.
Bold.
Lost.
Now frost.
Tears,
Through years,
And years,
And years.
Fear
Will steer.
Consumed?
Subsumed?
Either way,
The soul will pay.

Host.

Waiting.
Impatiently waiting.
Perhaps,
More patient then most.
I want,
To know a time,
Where I’m less patient,
And still less host.

Keeps

Blindsided,
And confused.  
Body broken,
Though not abused.
Trying to roll on,
When it keeps,
On going wrong.

All tunnel.

Broken.
Torn.
In pain,
And worn.
Never ending,
No end in sight.
No hope, no rainbow,
All tunnel,
No light.

Not today.

Not,
Today.
It,
Has not gone my way.
Not right now.
I don’t know when,
Or how.
Let me dwell,
We can need to pause,
Even in hell.

The fish.

Are you sure?
No,
But one can only wish.
In the meantime,
I give in,
And now you gave a fish.

That rope.

You always hope,
That after fear,
That one day,
There’ll be hope.
Rising,
Some day, rising,
Clinging to that rope.

Real.

Don’t ask a question when you’re angry,
If you only want how you feel.
How you feel in the moment,
Isn’t always what is real.

Every truth.

When the last post falls,
Your heart shatters more than breaks,
It’s when you realise every ‘truth’,
Are really all just fakes.

A must.

At the edge of my fingers.
Putting it on trust.
Survival, continuation,
Is, my dear, a must.

Wake.

I want you to learn,
To understand consequences,
But don’t want you to wake,
Questioning my love.

Not.

No.
Not today.
Close my eyes.
Make it go away.

Quo.

When you cannot avoid,
And your heart cannot lie,
You hope they hold you,
And the status quo does not die.

Hell backdoor

Eyes so focused,
On the threat you know.
Eyes so focused,
Will not let go.
You do not see,
The new threat before.
The dark and opening,
Hell backdoor.

To dry.

When there is no one left to trust.
When they decide their right to lie.
Is the time you come out fighting.
They hunt themselves to dry.

Another.

Too weary,
To write the words again.
Where is the wax,
To the wane?
Never a moment,
Of precious pause.
Another setback,
And another cause.  

The outcome.

The same words,
Over and over.
The same wish,
The same prayer.  
Every day, every day,
The outcome isn’t there.

Shoulders.

Back steps,
In the tired steps.
Back steps,
For the weary.
Shoulders droop,
Neck is tight,
Eyes,
Once again tears.

Internal Frost.

Looking for signs,
Means you know you’re lost.
Shivering,
The sign of internal frost.

To flee

When you are not who you were,
And who you want to be,
But you can not escape yourself,
There is no way to flee.

Your voice.

When it feels like they control you,
Even though you have a ‘choice’,
That is when you know,
You’ve lost the power,
Of your voice.

Bare bone.

I will hide here,
In my terrifying fear.
Do just the bare bone,
And be left alone.

Disappointed clown.

So many weeks of waiting,
Yet every day I hope for change.
I am fighting with my hope.
A situation, strange.
I want it, don’t want to lose it,
 It find it lets me down.
I wake every morning,
A disappointed clown.

To be through.

I mourn for me.
I mourn for you.
I am more than ready,
For this to be through.

From either.

There is no escape,
From either truth or pain.
It will be there in the morning,
For it all to start again.

And your fears.

It only takes one trigger,
But reparations can take years.
Nothing is as strong,
As your memory,
And your fears.

Ongoing curves

Back steps break the spirit.
Back steps break the nerves.
Sometimes life is a series,
Of ongoing curves.

To live.

I am not in a space to be a friend.
That says something for my life.
I have always been the friend,
The carer, rescuer, wife.
I am not a friend to myself right now,
And that’s just how it is.
The focus is on the priority.
That’s my right way to live.

Time to grieve.

Support you cannot accept.
Love you cannot receive.
This is what life is right now.
Now is the time to grieve.

spine.

What is selfish,
When is selfish,
When you stop,
And draw the line?
When you’ve given all,
And Always,
When,
Are you allowed a spine?

Never whole.

Without the pause,
You can’t consolidate,
And it becomes,
A fractured state.
You become,
A fractured soul.
Ever trying,
But never whole.

Where only.

The hard days.
When you see no way forward,
Or out.
You know things aren’t right,
No question or doubt.
The hard days.
These days,
Another trial of fire.
Where only surviving,
It’s whats left to inspire.

Just woken.

When it’s all collapsed,
And you’re feeling broken,
Close you eyes and focus on,
The time when you’ve just woken.

Price paid.

Hope and expectation,
Weapons of cruel torment.
This is not what I envisaged,
This is not our time well spent.
This is trial by fire,
This is trial by fear.
I need this to be over.
The price paid has been too dear.

When.

When does it stop?
When do s it end?
When can I return?
When can I be a friend?

Release.

Trying, ever trying.
Never reach the peace.
Is this what they talk of,
When they focus on release?

Gaping hole.

Unintended consequences,
Of trying to do your best,
Are a pain that hurts a little more,
And can’t leave your mind at rest.
Waiting for those consequences,
Sits heavy on your soul.
It tears at your stomach lining,
And leaves a gaping hole.

Sold

The theory,
That you don’t need to care,
Of others opinions and thought,
Is not meant for people like me,
Whose life has been sold by others,
And cannot ever be re-bought.

Intended.

Not what I wanted.
Not who I intended.
Hoping on a future,
Where joy is not pretended.

Overwhelm.

Though it keeps on raining,
And I’m heavier than expected,
I have to keep on moving,
I can’t bare she feel rejected.
I’d love to hide until it’s over,
But that’s within my realm.
I am the tower, however crumbly,
However much life may overwhelm.

Look back.

Here we go again.
On and on and on.
Another test, and another incident,
Until your strength is gone.
Waiting for a ride to turn.
Holding out for some reprieve.
Hoping to reach a point,
Where I can look back and grieve.

The burr.

When in the midst of hard days,
Just let them occur.
Just keep facing forward,
And try to remove the burr.  

Doesn’t stop.

Life.
Cruel.  Kind.  Cruel again.
I count my blessings,
But it doesn’t stop pain.

This bruise.

Disaster zone.
Stand clear.
Enter only,
If you have no fear.
Enter only,
If you’ve nothing to lose.
That’s not her,
So she carries that bruise.

Silence.

Silence,
Because there is nothing more to say.
Silence,
Because nothing you hear will change things.
Silence.

Only breath.

I can offer no words of wisdom.
No wise words are left.
I have only breath to offer,
My love, and a soul bereft.

I see it.

I see myself. 

I see it.  

I know.  

I may not like it, 

But I chose to give myself grace.  

Today I give myself grace.  

A range.

Time passes,
But not our love.
Times change,
We change and change.

Life happens,
And shifts our love,
Our love,
Becomes a range.

For you. For me.

Will there ever be a time,
When she isn’t  harried?
When all the worries have resolved,
From all the baggage carried?
Will there be deep breaths of peace,
And smiles of unfettered glee?
I want it for you.
I want it for me.

This rift.

Will things shift when this is over?
Or will I be the same?
Will I carry this forever?
Will it make me miss my aim.
Will I change winged this is over?
Will my soul take a shift?
Will I be capable of healing,
This gaping hole, this rift.

For once.

Do not know.
Do not know.
Care too much.
Feel every blow.

Care too much.
If that’s a thing.
If that’s a thing.
Is that a thing?

Do not know.
Hope for more.
As my soul,
Is on the floor.

What can hope bring?
What can hope bring?
Clinging to hope.
As if it’s a thing.

Needing a difference.
Tomorrow, today.
Need this to change.
For once, do not stay.

Not yet.

Desperate for this time to end,
For something in this line to bend.
Holding the line is getting harder,
As my energy is depleted,
I was once stronger,
But am not yet defeated.

Crown of blame.

When you sense the dropping empathy,
And the criticism seeping in.
That fact you are not healing,
Is now perceived as sin.
Do I have to share the detail,
To avoid your shame.
When doing the best you can,
Becomes your crown of blame.

No games.

Should I hold my breath,
‘Til the tale is told?
This ongoing not knowing,
Is getting old.
Can I sleep for days?
Take a step away?
There are no games,
I wish to play.

Not allow.

I walk a path,
One foot before t’other.
I don’t know the future,
This is something other.
This was not envisaged,
This was not planned,
And where it goes,
Is not in my hand,
But I’ll walk this path,
One foot before t’other,
And not allow it,
To permanently smother.

To heal.

Suddenly the light wind,
That had taken to my sails,
Has become as ill as I,
And my brief gusto is off the rails.
I miss it.  I feel I mourn it.
I am tired of this view.
I want to be blessed,
With the chance to heal, renew.

Bountiful seed.

Though this is not,
The intended journey,
It is not,
Without worth.
It is still a path,
Walked.
A bountiful seed,
I did birth.

For you.

For you,
My inspiration.
For you,
My drive.
I would not,
Not without you.
You.
My beating heart before me.
For you.

Given in.

One more stone. I felt it.
Then another, making that two.
If I add them to yesterday’s,
I lose count.  Who knew?
My maths has given up,
1 year and 5 weeks in.
My heart and soul are beaten.
My body has given in.

Those flaws

The need for escapism,
So real and such temptation.
A needed step away from reality,
And bruised lamentation.
The curtain drops,
The harsh lights flare,
Reality cold,
Shivering, bare.
No wonder,
That it has its draws,
The stage lights,
Hiding all those flaws.

Once again cold.

I listened, and I tried.
I offered myself hope.
Being hit again,
Drops me down the rope.
That thing I tried to grasp,
To cherish and hold,
Has dropped and dropped me,
My soul, once again cold.

Hold the west.

It keeps on coming.
Any pause, so brief.
It will not be long,
Until the next wave of grief.
One more trigger,
One more test,
One more thing to fear,
As you hold the West.

To myself.

Judgement is not always,
A thing you can ignore.
Sometimes people have power,
To a level you can’t ignore.
I choose to be honest.
Whatever that may do.
I will fight for her,
And to myself be true.

Spent.

Hope can be the kindest gift,
But the cruelest torment.
It’s can provide the energy,
Or warn you that you’re spent.

Process.

Tired that the journey,
Seems to have no end.
No pause, or respite,
It no longer a new friend.
Tired that the fight,
Feels incessant.  No relief.
Missing what once was,
But too tired to process grief.

Of value.

Looking for something in this,
That’s more than just survival.
Is it a lesson,
End or arrival.
Desperate for value from this,
That what I’ve lost hasn’t gone to waste.
I feel I’ve lost so much of value,
That I will never get back or replace.

The floor.

Desperately hoping,
But have been in that place before.
Desperately wishing, I
To rise up from the floor.
Knowing it’s a journey,
But you’re tired of the fight.
Wanting to lose the weight,
And begin to enjoy the day.

Close a door.

When you gained hope,
However briefly,
But then it’s whipped away.
You wanted it,
So badly.
You wanted it to stay.
You sink a little lower,
Than you were before.
You want silence,
To mourn it.
You want to close a door.

I know.

When it rains, pours,
And rains again.
When you’re an episode,
Of ‘Never the Twain’.
When life is jus,
That twitch too hard,
But you’re not in a position,
To throw in the card,
I know.
I know.

A time.

A break.
A pause.
A moment.
One deep drink.
A minute.
A glimpse.
Silence.
A time to think.

The feat.

Depleted, defeated,
So close to done.
Life in a heel,
Suddenly spun.
Depleted, defeated,
Broken, incomplete.
Pulling it back,
Will be quite the feat.

Hold it.

I am envious of others,
If the peace that they enjoy.
I am envious of who I was,
When life could be a toy.
I am impatient for a return,
To a better day.
If it returns, I want to hold it.
How do I make it stay?

Start to fly.

Last one more.  

One more again.  

Pray it doesn’t turn to ten.  

One more deep breath.  

One more sigh.  

Hope the days will start to fly.  

No rest.

When you feel it will never end,
And this how your life you’ll spend.
You’re trying, trying, doing your best,
But there’s no let up.  There’s no rest.

Back to land.

I can feel the earth moving.
I feel tremors beneath my feet.
I don’t know what is coming,
But it does not smell so sweet.
I had hoped things were rising,
Floating back to land.
It no longer feels like that,
And I don’t know where I stand.

Signs to see.

It strikes me that I sat there once,
At the start of what I now know,
And here I am again,
Almost toe to toe.
Brought to tears, then somewhat lifted.
Wishing to be carried,
Wanting to reach a place,
Where I am not this harried.
I see a pattern to read,
Signs to see,
I just need time,
To return to me.

Worrying for cloud.

I wanted progress,
I wanted release,
But I’m stuck here,
Stifled by this fleece.
I wanted to return,
To myself, to before,
Or forward to something better,
Just steadier on the floor.
I want to smile at rainbows,
Without worrying for cloud.
I want all the things,
I can’t say out loud.

A waste?

When through all the weeks of trying,
It happens just the same,
Do you regret the effort,
Is it a waste, a shame?
Do you lapse in the future?
None of that’s for me.
Hoping, and then letting it go,
But not willing to let it be.

Polishing

Wishing turns to praying,
When you just don’t see how,
You can this one more day,
Dangling from a bough.
When one foot before the other,
Has barely got you this far,
And where you want to be,
Is polishing her star.

This pace.

With every day that passes,
We drift further away.
You could call it independence,
But it was not meant to be this way.
I am grateful for her ability,
To handle the changes with grace.
It just wasn’t supposed to be like this,
And not at this pace.

Most painful.

I feel like life punishes you,
For trying to do what’s right.
I am trying so hard,
Consumed by an internal fight.
In the midst of taking care,
You can often make hints worse.
Is trying too hard,
The most painful curse?

Is that how?

Does one mistake,
Make you lapse on others?
Is that how it begins?
Does one error of judgement,
In a moment,
Open the snicket to sins?
Do little sins change your mindset?
Do they alter the shade of your heart?
Do they push it wider for darkness?
Is that how these things start?

Double check.

When you have a feeling,
That you’ve just been played.
A marionette with strings.
For the peace, for the ease,
You want to smooth the wings.
These things I must notice.
These things I must double check.
For I will not be at your bidding.
Not ever, not in heck.

Every test.

It shows that I am human,
And that we all can fall and break?
Yet the look on her face,
Is a bitter pill to take.
I wish this wasn’t how it is.
I always wish for her the best.
My instinct will always be to protect her.  I’m
I will keep taking every test.

One big lie.

She worries about the possibilities,
Because she know things can get worse.
She knows what it’s like to live,
Like you’ve been hit by a undeserved curse.
Don’t tell her that it’s unlikely,
She knows those things happen too.
Don’t tell her she worries for nothing,
Because bolts hurt more when they’re out of the blue.
Don’t tell her it’ll all be fine.
She knows that’s just one big lie.
She’s here in the midst of Salem.
This woman is refusing to die.

Fibre

When,
The strangest things can topple you over.
The straw.
And the camels back.
Carrying,
The weight of the world on your shoulders,
Til you find a fibre you lack.

When it’s through.

Illness,
Can refocus the mind.
St lest that’s,
My find.
When I’m empty, broken,
Running low,
You cut back,
And begin to show,
What you need,
What helps you get though,
And what you dream of doing,
When the illness is through.

To cope.

Send in a saviour.
You’ve sent in the clowns,
You’ve sent in the devils,
The dragging you down’s.
For years I have maintained,
I need only be me,
But am quickly finding,
That’s pure naïveté.
So send in a lifeline,
Thrown out a rope.
My body’s too tired,
From wielding its strength to cope.

Pendulum swing.

I can be my own worst enemy.
With my worries and my fears,
But they have got me to this point,
And may take me on for years.
I wish I were slightly altered,
But am proud of how these nails have clung.
Carefree was for the other me,
Before the pendulum swung.

To lurch.

One, two,
Three, four?
How many things,
Are to knock at my door?
How many obstacles,
Blighting my day,
Thrown in the path,
Getting in the way,
Of peace, of simple happiness,
Without having to search.
Oh to glide,
And to no have to lurch.

Teetering.

I have lost the concept,
Of what went well.
It’s a consequence,
Of my time in hell.
Teetering on the edges,
By the path to pain.
Hoping that there’ll be a time,
When my life is mine again.

Sore shoulders.

The weight you carry,
Gets greater every year.
There’s something about life,
And holding people dear.
The weight which I carry,
Leaves my heart and shoulders sore,
But that are some pains in life,
You cannot hide from or ignore.

Scarred.

Doing the hard things,
Doesn’t stop them being hard.
It doesn’t stop the feeling,
That their heart is scarred.

For others.

Twisted, cracked, broken, fallen.
Laying on the ground.
Beautiful, despite its fate.
Moss covered mound.
I see it and I see myself.
Strange, but strong, the feeling.
No more growth, yet life for others.
A thought that’s left me reeling.

My rhyme.

Left to my devices,
Changes would occur.
With a moments peace,
Energies spur.
I remember how I was,
And what took my time.
These things I miss, small but true.  
Yet at least I kept my rhyme.

Resurface.

Today feels like the dark stars,
Have started to collide.
I can feel them looming,
And there is no place to hide.
They are much too strong to hold back.  
My attempts they feel in vain.
Together they outweigh my hope,
And resurface all the pain.

If it were not for you.

My two minutes of space,
Begin to flood with fear,
Of what will happen next,
Of what is to appear.
Every deep breath counteracted,
By some thing thrown my way.
If it were not for you, my love,
I’m not sure I’d stay.

Against a rip.

I do not know myself,
When I don’t have time to breathe.
I keep completing all the tasks,
Like there is no reprieve,
Yet it does not feel like progress,
More like swimming against a rip.
Am I achieving something here,
Or just letting myself slip?
Is this all part of the process,
Or just an errand for a fool?
Am I heading on and upwards,
Or just someone else’s stool.

Becoming free.

As I try to force an answer,
I realise it isn’t required.
The need to keep on moving,
Is a response to being tired.
I don’t need to feed the machine,
If it isn’t feeding me.
This isn’t about the hamster wheel,
It’s about becoming free.

Shuffled order.

Listening to your words,
Your heart, your face.
This is the afternoon,
I shift the space.
A new routine,
A new shuffled order.
Nudge just slightly,
Draw a stronger border.
Listen to my feelings,
But hear your heart.
With you when with you,
Organised when apart.

Locus.

When people need to be the priority,
Then routines and systems slip.
It’s a choice to touch a heart,
Not a failure or a slip.
Something missing but no so missed,
Versus a soul that felt the focus.
Perhaps a little rethink,
A slightly amended locus.

This spell.

When it makes sense,
That you’re not enough,
But it still hurts like hell.
More that they are feeling it,
In this unfair time,
This spell.

When you want to fix the world,
But you are only you.
When you want to paint a rainbow,
But the sky will not turn blue.

When you’re given,
The painful wake up call.
That your focus has quietly shifted.  
The guilt is something else,
But the self indulgent cloud?
It’s lifted.  

The wind.

The wind has changed direction.
Only slightly, but still,
I can feel the air change in my lungs,
And saw some dust blow from the sill.
The window is still murky,
But a little clearer than before.
I can see a chunk of light,
Through a crack in this heavy door.

Again?

When you feel a door closing,
Do you choose to let it shut?
Do you fight to keep it open?
The efforts it took to put,
The seeds in the ground,
Is that wasted, gone?
Should you fight,
To keep it rolling on?
Recoup that investment,
And the blood on the frame,
Or do you take it as a sign,
And start fresh again?

Castle falls.

A hanging fear of judgement.
The butterflies inside.
Concerned your best won’t cut it,
No matter how hard you’ve tried.
Spinning too many plates,
Juggling too many balls.
Knowing it’s only time,
Before the castle falls.

Shift.

Reassessing what has purpose,
In a state of grief,
Is not as easy as you would think.
It’s not mental relief.
Considering what brings joy,
Can be torture, not a gift.
Letting go of what you imagined,
Is not an easy shift.

My Us.

Hope,
Fear,
And worry,
Steer.
They drive,
They break.
They insert,
They take.
I want Us
My Us.
Happy, safe,
Free.

Never truly.

I am craving temporary solitude,
A time of mental peace.
I don’t want to lose this.
I just need to pause, release.
Sometimes the cloth is heavy,
And I can’t always be switched on.
Believe me, I am grateful,
I could not bare if this were gone,
But I need a moments rest.
I need my mind to clear.
If it doesn’t, it just means,
I’m never truly here.

The lessons.

I am hiding here,
Because I don’t want,
My broken heart to show.
I am in a moment,
Where I understand,
But do not want to know.
I am hiding here,
Because I want,
You heart to ‘for’er be free.
I want you to learn,
The lessons,
Without having to be me.

Too loud.

When you’re overwhelmed,
By what your heart has to say.
You shudder with knowledge,
And are reluctant to stay.
You want to go, hide.
You need time to think,
To understand what is swirling,
Before it starts to sink.
The fluttering feelings,
Are too loud in you chest.
You need to retreat.
You need time to rest.

Not yet.

I,
I am not done.
I,
I am not done yet.
I,
Will find it.
Be it old,
Or be it new.
I am undone,
But I am not done.
I am not done yet.

Your own sake.

There are moments where,
A mind speaks for itself.
Though you thought you placed,
Your feelings on a shelf,
They sometimes fall,
As the earth feels a shake.
What would you do,
For your own sake?

Attic minds.

Does sunlight make things clearer,
Or just cover life with a tint?
Am I making progress,
With this tiny piece of flint?
Am I following a light,
Or lost in a beam that blinds?
What influence the weather,
On dusty, attic minds?

Only this.

If it were this.
If it were only this.
If only it were this.
If the other elements did not exist.
It the only reality were that in my heart.
It would be this.
If...
If only.

Off the floor

When you feel you’ve steered your head,
Into somewhat safer waters,
And your ancestors can still be proud,
Of the ongoing daughters,
But then another little happening,
And you’re receding once more.
The trick is not the falling,
It’s the getting up off the floor.

To give.

It’s easier to sit,
And watch how others live,
Than process what has happened,
And what I’ve had to give.

Reclaiming breath.

I can’t explain the tiny shift,
But my gratitude is clear.
There is an upward motion,
Just tiny but it’s here.
I am grateful, beyond grateful,
For whatever light,
In this dark time.
I am reclaiming breath,
And cherishing what is mine.

My mind, my heart.

There are too many words.
It would take too long.
This isn’t a trite,
Hashed out song.
This is my life,
My mind, my heart,
Fifteen minutes,
Isn’t even the start.
It’s too complex,
And thus so much unsaid,
So many things passing,
Through my head.
I’ll never cover,
What’s in my heart,
Because that’s not where,
You want to start.

My tired hand.

To have belief in something,
Other than my love for you,
Is a thing I’ve yet to truly understand.
Though it’s pulling at my shoe.
There are clicks, and turns and twists,
That I do not understand,
But I feel that there is something,
Holding my tired hand.  

The steps I take.

Claiming, or reclaiming,
Has purpose, but does not feel right.
I have the aim,
But it’s an internal fight,
With all, truly all, the feelings,
And it’s not been my choice to make,
But not conceding I move forward in control,
Would make a lie of the steps I take.

Then who?

However hard, I am here,
Watching this unfold.
However strong I need to be,
These moments will not grow old.
I will cling on, with broken nails,
Because that’s what you do.
You cling on and reach out for others,
If not me, then who?

To the letter.

Choosing to hope,
Even when words are grey.
You have to find hope.
It’s the only way.
Something to focus on,
Somewhere to head.
Each day is for surviving,
Before heading to bed,
But the tomorrow’s are for hope,
For dreaming, for better.
This is my focus.
To the word, to the letter.

This older.

Thinking it had gone as best it could.
Being grateful for thus far.
Then the thing you always worry for,
And now your spirit has felt the jar.
The inevitable concern,
Hanging about your shoulder.
Who would think there were times,
When you dreamed you were this older.

Betwixt

Like the warmth from the sun,
A deeper, deeper, air.
Time without them is needed,
But so is knowing that they care.
I will try to package those memories,
Betwixt the complexities of life,
And those things that cut deep,
Like a rusty knife.
I need this life to deburr,
To heal the infection,
But I can still treasure the peace,
Joy and reflection.

A different song.

No rest.  No reprieve.
Life keeps on.
My heart beats,
To a different song.
No rest.  No reprieve.
No end in sight.
I am walking the shadows,
Afraid of the light.

How we last.

When it wasn’t everything,
But was it was enough,
And it’s steps,
If nothing else.
When you didn’t swim,
But you tred water,
And you’re still going,
If nothing else.
When a smile is worth it all,
Worth every thing that’s gone,
And it’s steps,
If nothing else,
Because this is how we last, go on.

Enforced hibernation.

I’ve too quick become accustomed,
To this enforced hibernation.
I am tired through all the tasks.
I want peace and a libation.
Though I may start to wonder,
About the world could hold,
I find that my desires,
Are no longer quite that bold.
I find that life is smoother,
Without the world jostling at your back.
Too much pushing on a surface,
And it will start to crack.

Just not.

Like a flicker of the past,
Chaotic and full.
Before the change,
The broken china and bull.
Rocking the images,
My head had chosen,
And so now,
My actions are frozen.
So much to consider,
Looking wider than fear,
Before decisions are made.
Things are just not clear.

For her.

From now until eternity,
I will carry that strange fear,
That there is something coming,
And it’s frighteningly near.
Whatever you want to name it,
It has become a part of me.
These things I did not worry on,
Things things I did not see,
Are now in startlingly technicolour,
Are blinding and distracting.
I see things you do not,
So don’t question how I’m acting.
I’ve learned things, and felt things,
I wish I had not.
This mind full of worry,
Is all I’ve now got,
As the means to protect,
As the way to progress.
I know I am damaged,
But truly, who isn’t a mess?



For a fried.   For her mind.  For her reality.  For her honesty.

The gamble.

When I close my eyes to sleep,
And my mind I do release,
I am ever taking a gamble.
Sleep does not guarantee peace.

Performance free.

A little break is needed.
Space and time to think.
As I stare into the dark night sky,
Through the window by the sink.
If all I get’s a moment,
A moment it must be.
A moment in silence,
Where I’m performance free.

In every.

She doesn’t have to light the darkness,
Just because she can.
It’s not her role to carry the torch.
She’s not the saviour of man.
She needs only to be herself,
A human on a scale.
She does not need to be one dimension,
She’s allowed to cry, to rail.
Her gift is to inspire,
To provide a cause.
This I must remember,
In every deep breath and pause.

Similarly hexed.

There’s a point in life,
Where you give up on dreams.
It too swift becomes trying,
To simply hold fast the seams.
You save your hope,
For the dreams of the next,
And pray their life,
Is not similarly hexed.

Iron clad receipt.

There are points,
Where I question my strength,
And whether I will last,
At length,
But then I am shown,
My strength outweighs,
Those who I leant on,
In past days.
You cannot rely on rely,
It’s a word of deceit.
Nothing in life,
Comes with an iron clad receipt.

Life become.

I draw it in. I hold it.
My lungs are full to burst.
My longing for resolution,
Is like a desert thirst.
A positive resolution,
One that I can stand.
One that I can stomach,
In a life become unplanned.

In the wing.

It’s there, in the pauses,
Of a busy day.
It’s where my mind falls,
When it gets a chance to stray.
It’s there, omnipresent,
Hiding in the wing.
A never ending Winter,
Praying for the Spring.

Hope is my release.

So many emotions,
But none to express.
I will walk behind this curtain.
It will be how I dress.
I cannot thank those people that I should,
Cannot explain to those that crave it.
This is how I make it work.
This is how I brave it.
I hope for an outcome,
That carries its own peace.
I hope for so many things.
Hope is my release.

What they say.

It’s odd how the suspicion,
Had simply dropped away.
With so much on the table,
There seemed nothing left to say,
But an innocent dropped word,
Can make you question what people do.
You never really know anyone,
Or if what they say is true.

The epitome.

Always.  Always.  Forever.  

I will fight.  I will fight.  

I know there’ll be more hurdles, 

There’ll be more left’s before it’s right, 

But I will keep on fighting.  

There is nothing with more worth.  

I have loved you from mere knowledge, 

Long before your birth.  

Always.  Always.  Forever.  

I will soldier on.  

Whenever I will need to, 

I’ll be the epitome of strong.  

Baby’s breath.

I fear that overdoing things,
Will only do more harm.
She is not another animal,
In a processed farm.
My job is to protect her,
And I’ll do it to my death,
But I cannot knowingly put poison,
In that baby’s breath.

Disguised preparation.

Another one gone,
No further ahead?
Or, am I making progress,
Inside my head?
Is this all disguised preparation,
For what’s next in store?
Will I spin on my heels,
And find an open door?
More future thought,
Is to be put away.
It now must wait,
For another day.

Things become.

In so many ways, I know I’m blessed,
And it’s where I try to steer,
But I’m also a realist,
And unfortunately know fear.
I do my best in every day,
To grasp what is presented,
But you cannot ignore all you’re given,
That’s when smiles become resented.

Burn to fade.

So sensitive a heart.
Soft criticism stings.
Complimentary reactions,
Lights the heart.  It sings.
Take a step in retreat,
Take time for the burn to fade.
It’s how you last the journey.
It’s how the game is played.

I growl.

A lake, an ocean, a large expanse,
Of something fluid and cold.
I will keep on treading water,
Until I’m just too old.
I will keep on keeping on,
Until I hit the fire.
As drawn as I may feel,
And as much as I may tire,
Take three steps back, or trip,
I will not throw in towel.
I may not have the lungs to roar,
But, rest assured, I growl.

The glue.

Hold your breath,
And count to ten.
Hold your breath,
Then breathe again.
Try not to jump,
As did they.
Remember,
That it’s just their way,
Their way of dealing,
What what hurts their heart too,
But in this strange life,
You are now the glue.

Greying tower.

You know you’re living on shale,
When you’re rattled with such ease.
You miss the times in life,
When you could ride the breeze.
You could not change the past,
Without loss of what is all,
But you wish you could hold it close,
And let the greying tower fall.

The unknown.

Branches dipped with poison,
And so a guiltless fear.
No matter that you have no ills,
A heaviness hovers near.
You fear of being tarred,
With a brush that’s not your own.
It is the strangest feeling,
Facing the unknown.

I will not drown.

I am breathing like a person,
Who knows there’s no control,
Who knows that survival,
Is sometimes the only goal.
Yet still I am a person,
Who knows that there are shifts.
Some times are for passing,
Others can be gifts.
You push on through the hardest parts,
And breeze on through the good.
I want to smell the flowers again.
I will not drown in this flood.

The curtain.

The light in my life.
The reason I glow.
The thing I will fight for,
And not let go.
Life may tear at my soul,
Grief lay wait within,
But this gift is the curtain,
That will let the light in.

Rock pool.

It can never be linear,
So they say, and they are right.
Grief is waves hitting a rock pool,
Through day and darkest night.
Take a breath and feel the sun,
For they will not last for long.
Hold that breath and brace for impact.
This is not a pretty song.

Rattle and shake.

When your journey is one,
You did not intend to make,
Then prepare the wobble,
The rattle and shake.
It will hit you sideways,
Appear from nowhere,
It’s the price you pay,
For choosing to care.

On Spring.

When you think that you’re stronger,
Rising again,
But something small just tips you,
And releases the pain.
When you no longer,
Understand anything.
It’s time  to push through the Winter,
And focus on Spring.

Finding.

It’s a place I know.
The person too.
I do carry a feeling,
That it will hurt you,
But I have to be true,
I have to release.
I hope you’ll be fine with it.
I am finding some peace.

Somewhere between.

Vague, a little lost, half empty.
In a zone somewhere between.
Not the thing you were before,
When days were fresh and green,
But nothing new and revitalised,
A route roughly hewn or too well tred.
So many roads ahead of you,
But they’re all just in your head.
Life has the power to take your choices.
Some paths you’d never wish to walk.
There are times you need to sit, switch off,
Because you’ve no words right now to talk.

Your strength.

When you cannot see an end.
When things will not improve at length.
When your heart and soul is weary.
It’s then you need your strength.

I will not sleep.

Sometimes I feel I’m drowning,
But I need the strength to tred.
Whilst the waves are crashing round me,
The focus must be in my head.
I make break, bruise and tear.
My heart may shatter and weep,
But I will always rise for her.
For her I will not sleep.

Like a dart.

When everything is spinning,
Your mind, your world, your heart.
Focus on one spot,
And fix it like a dart.

Limbo.

Limbo is hard, 

On the nerves and the heart.  

There is no end, 

No re-start.  

There is only fear and wondering, 

Waiting and suspense.  

What is the future? 

When life’s presented as past tense? 

Mile by mile.

Some emotions come in waves,
Some in strong tidal rips.
Some times you see your strength,
But in other moments the fear grips.
Always look to your purpose.
Look it in the eye, and smile.
You have to be strong,
To guide it mile by mile.

And there is.

There is no peace,
In a mind that is racing.
Distraction is only,
A metered pacing.
When there’s no easy option,
And no hope in sight,
Look to your purpose,
And there is your fight.

In faith.

How do you see in darkness,
Or in blinding light?
You have to move forward in faith,
That, some day, all will be right.

I now.

When someone does not believe your intentions,
It hurts, that much is true.
I feel it every time,
But I does not mean that I’ll trust you.
Life has handed me many lessons.
Yet I’m not quick to learn.
I’ve given too many chances,
And then felt the burn.
I’ve reached an odd position,
Where I’ll give benefit of the doubt,
But I will never trust, or truly believe.
I now hold my heart far out.

They can earn.

When you need to rise above,
But it’s always what you do,
Then how do you let them know,
That this isn’t fair. You’d not be true,
To what they did and how it made you feel,
There’d be no lesson to learn.
Some consideration of others is needed,
And respect that they can earn.

Where I have say.

Time out, time away,
Space enough to delay,
What is oft expected,
But then somehow rejected,
As not enough, never right.
Are you looking for a fight?
Are you looking to be peeved,
Wanting to be aggrieved?
Why waste what energy is there?
I’m becoming too tired to share.
Time out, please.  Time away,
To a place where I have say.

In flood.

I will hold on, with worried heart,
But listen to each note.
I must build myself a picture,
On which I can float.
I will take each moment given,
Try to focus on the good.
My heart is speaking loudly.
My truths they come in flood.

Out of the blue.

When twists in the journey highlight,
Where gratitude is needed.
I always stop and listen,
To the nudge that needs to be heeded.
So there I was sending messages,
Apparently out of the blue,
But the timing makes sense to me,
Even if not to you.

Down to blue.

When you put it back as far as possible,
In the hope that things will change.
You’re hoping something will happen,
That will remove it from your range.
You know you’ll have to do it,
At some point, on some day,
But you would surely avoid it,
If you truly had your way.
It’s for all the others.  
It is certainly not for you.
Some things you have to experience,
Though they drag you down to blue.

A love of cheer.

It doesn’t take much now, to wobble my spirit,
In the smallest ways.
It’s usually fear,
That takes my heart and plays.
A gripping, vice like, tension,
A furrow in my brow.
I want to be light again quickly,
But some times I don’t know how,
To sufficiently erase the heaviness,
That descended with the fear.
I do know that for you I must.
You deserve a love of cheer.

We will need breaks.

Sometimes wind will carry you,
Then drop you in a lull.
It can be taken from you,
Though once your sails were full.
I hope you know my darling,
Though it may have happened to me,
Having you as focus,
Is all I need to be,
The strength to build a turbine,
However long it takes.
I’m determined we will fly my dear.
So far and fast, we will need breaks.