Writer, researcher, music lover, cancer survivor with CMMRD ("double" Lynch syndrome)

Tag: poetry (Page 10 of 24)

the important work of forgetting

time yet again to get on with
the important work of forgetting.
there’s no jab for not being able to breathe
no injection for anxiety
you just have to train yourself to
breathe again, like
you’ve never done it before.

concentrate like it’s hard
– because it is –
like your life depends on it
– because it does.

put all of your effort into this thing
that is coming so naturally to
everyone around you. this thing
that nobody else even has to think about
has to be the only thing you think about

until you don’t think about it anymore.
and who knows when that will be
or how you will get there?

How unfortunate for you

How unfortunate for you
that you love this collection
of broken cells.

How unfortunate for me
that that’s all my body
is in my mind right now.

Maybe one day that will change.
Maybe not.

you don’t have the monopoly on grief

you don’t have the
monopoly on grief

and neither do I.

we’re just

kicking up copper dust

and wishing we were high

going through the motions

as if that’s good enough.

there’s a competition in my head

to find out who’s more tough

and I’m winning, I’m winning

I’m stronger by far,

but we’re rooting for each other,

at least, in my head

we are.

easy saturday

The stormy bank holiday when
plans fell through so it was
Scrabble and a fry up, lazy Saturday
afternoon with my legs outstretched
and your half of the sofa reclined, your
heartbeat reverberating through the
backs of my knees as you snored and I
watched easy tv

not your average wednesday

‘easy, easy’
they say,
when nothing is easy

and my eye welcomes
the comfort of my
fingertip
and says this is a
pressing matter

and I’ve buried myself in bricks
for days
hard thoughts
heavy thoughts
thoughts that leave no room for
anything else at all

and I sink
and I sink
and my thoughts are nothing but
this

and the day comes that
I’ve been waiting for
and I’m going alone
like I wanted
but didn’t want
and it happens
and it’s okay
probably
maybe

and it’s over

and just like that
the bricks are gone
I’m still on my own
but comfortably so
and I can stand
and there is light
air all around
no dusk or dawn

just like a switch
midnight to midday sun

and everything feels fine –
until next time.

jack daniels

the cold glass on my wet bottom lip
my top lip enveloping – and then I tip
the scent stings my nostrils and
my teeth welcome it
head goes back
a slow swallow
and the roof
of my mouth
goes numb
the taste
is blunt
and then
nothing
matters
anymore.

maybe I am a mess
but I love these
nights.

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