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I’m Fine Thanks

I’m not OK
Not within the weeping of trees,
Or inside wailing caverns,
Nor whilst walking home,
alone,
on a Saturday night
after the fight we had under the opaque moon.
 
I’m not OK in the vast open spaces,
of myself.
When I come to the end of my time
as a host, as a lover,
as a child,
as a friend.

I’m not OK
in my forced role of parent, or therapist.
Nor am I a sturdy shoulder,
a prop, a raft: left to hold others afloat.
 
After the day is through and the walls become silent
Hours left to my own devices,
my own thoughts, feelings even
Here – I’m not OK.
 
You cannot see,
yet in me lies a detonator
waiting for sanity to finally give in.
Silently mocking – willing me to explode
so that every bit of me is opened up to scrutiny,
and judgement.
Disappointment,
for both you and me.
 
And only then,
when my body is wiped from the walls,
and scarlet pools around their shoes
will they claim –
 
She seemed OK
She was always OK

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Camping Under The Pink Moon

A pickle full of poets

A pocket full of rhyme

A folder full of bookmarks

And all for saving time

A vast array of forums

Of word and wit unknown

Those crosses on the calendar

Emit an eerie tone

And when the hands crossover

And champs begin to sing

Encouragement that drove her

Might melt away to spring

Always a Winner

Did I win?
Your young face beaming from ear to ear as the coin slapped against my hand
“Of course you did my pet”
That was the way of it, you and I.
I couldn’t bear to see you saddened, not even for a second.
Didn’t want to see your smile drop into a petulant frown

Wouldn’t let you lose,
Could never let you down