Like cancer

I think too much

and say to little

most of which is

unforgivable

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Awoken

If I am writing poetry again
please know this;
this is a disquiet pain
keeping me awake at night.
I need you to hear it
something needs to heal it.

Persona

I don’t really know how to-

people.

I don’t understand

why certain things I say

upset them.

Or why

some people behave

the way they do.

I try to find

the best in everyone

and have often been proven wrong.

This is not an excuse

I have a soft heart

and all my actions and words

come from no evil.

I often feel like I haven’t been myself for years-

But isn’t this how all humans feel?

Sweet dreams

A brush against my skin. The mattress moves.

‘Babe wake up,’ something soft and wet against my shoulder. My mind slowly returns, and I roll over to face him. The soft light coming from the curtains silhouettes him.

‘I was having such a horrible dream,’ I say.

‘What about?’

‘I… I dreamt I was in a factory. But there was nobody there, just these cages… like crates with bars…’ I see it now; the white stark walls, the dirty cracked windows. The cages. Rows of them going back to the furthest wall ‘There was someone shouting but I couldn’t see anyone. And there was this smell… like something stale and old… it was disgusting.’

‘It was just a dream,’ he moves my hair away from my face.

‘But it felt so real. It was lucid.’

‘I’m sure it means nothing. Go back asleep.’

I curl closer, and he rests his arm on me for comfort. His breathing is timed and soothing. I kiss his arm and allow myself to drift off once more.

Light has broken through a crack in the curtains. I am disorientated; I can’t determine what is bothering me. I don’t remember my dream. I stretch and reach out, but my fingers meet nothing. I look over. The other half of the bed is made and undisturbed. I pick up the pillow. I can only smell laundry detergent and a vague hint of my perfume.

Heartbreak

This will be the first time my heart breaks:
when I open social media
and see that you have chosen her over me.

I didn’t even know she existed.

Strange that only a week ago we were in bed
and you whispered sweet nothings
and made me believe that we were meant to be.

You were the first I let in and you convinced me
for years to come that
I’d never be worthy.

The intruder

My back aches. I cannot blink. One second will give them the advantage. Moisture slips between my hand and the baseball bat. I grip it tighter.

‘I told my friend I’d be back inside in two minutes,’ I say to the shadow hovering by the shed ‘If I’m not back by then, he’ll have called the police. Just go. Please. I don’t want any trouble.’

They deliberate. I grip the bat with both hands and step forward. I don’t look like much, but they turn and run for the open gate.

I wait a moment to be certain, but they’re gone. I check the lock on the gate, before dragging my heavy wheely bin behind it to block it. The locks completely broken. I’ll have to fix that tomorrow. I look at the old tin shed, unfazed by the night’s events. My secret is still safe.

Back inside, I lock the door and admire the silence of being alone once more. The motion light for the garden turns off. I prop the bat by the door, and suddenly smell the burnt baked beans I’d left on the stove.

‘Bollocks,’ I say softly, now think of murder.