Maybe I’m dead already
I feel you walking on my grave
I shout and scream but no one hears
No one cares.
I’m a corpse among the living
But not the pretty sugar skull, kind.
I’m ignored. Muted. Paused.
Can anyone hear me ? Anyone ?
When did it happen ?
When was my last laugh ? My last guttural outburst?
It’s all dampened down now.
Hush. Hush. Hush.
No matter how hard I dance for you all
I feel you have written me off
Bit by bit by obituary.
Listen to your guts
Those wrenching, clenching, squelching knots they make.
They’re telling you something,
You may not want to hear.
I doubted their bubbling ways.
Told myself that all was well
That memories are just playing with bile
But all the while
They knew your untruths.
You lied to my face and it believed you
But my entrails are less naive.
So next time I hear that rumble
I won’t mistake it for thunder
But I will know a storm is coming.
I thought we had movie love
The kiss in the rain feel no pain kind
Run down the streets shouting my name
Fight monsters and beasts
Just to see me.
But no ever-after, for us .
Ours is the tragic kind
The one you wish you could rewind
Less flame more fog
The sad, silent type of film
And I’m not sure if you’re speaking
Or if I need subtitles
And it’s all just too much to watch
I want to look away
But my eyes are glued to this scene
Will it ever end ?
Reeling.Reeling. I’m reeling.
You took down the fairylights
And I didn’t know what to say.
How could I explain to you the need for those little buds of soft glowing light ?
And I don’t say ‘need’ lightly.
You know this time of year is hard for me
You know the opaque clouds that fill the sky ?
Well they fill me too.
Those lights were my solace
A twinkle in the drab grey that permeates every cavity of this godforsaken soul.
But you bundled them up tightly and put them away
They made the place look messy
But I’m the one who is here all day
Don’t I have a say ?
Don’t take away my light
Don’t leave me in the dark
There is a cold wind howling
And a shadow at the door.
You’re very aware of your “too muchness” He said.
“Much too much” I replied
I’m much too emotional
Much too intense
Much too mad
Much too sad
It’s all too much you know ?
But for who ? For me ? For you?
What about too less ? Isn’t that worse ?
Much more of a curse?
I suppose he’s right.
I suppose more is better
Then why do I feel less ?
I don’t have time to plant flowers
Or paint my kitchen blue
I don’t have the patience to bake a cake
I’m too busy to take a bath.
I realised then you absorb colour
From the world. From me.
I gave it out without a thought.
These little pleasures came easy
The smell of coffee in the morning
Candles late at night
These things were scaffolding for my fragile senses
They keep the grey at bay
But for you the world was made of sturdier stuff
And you had no need for sculpted glass.
I’m not saying you’re crass but you’re not as gentle as I thought.
So I will keep filling this world with rainbows
But you won’t find my gold.
You planted flowers.
There was nothing but concrete and grey
God that grey. Suffocating. Stifling grey.
And wretched looking people and their wretched looking pets
Another siren in the distance.
But you planted flowers.
And I was on the bus
And though you don’t know me
I feel somehow you do.
So please keep them watered
Because it matters .
It matters to me.