Monthly Archives: May 2011

gotcha. well, you say that.

How did I not hear you coming?
How could I not see you early enough to prevent the sly attack?
Protect myself?

It was working.
You were gone.
I was confident.
I had hope and energy and pop.

I had love for myself.
Finally.

I don’t need you, you know.
Your grip is tight and frightening, but not permanent.
I can fend you off without the need for soldiers or heavy artillery.

I can fend you off without the need for alcohol or intense pharmaceuticals.

I am vulnerable.
I am small.
I am sometimes broken and bleeding.

But I do have grace.
I do have love.
I am strong.

I have pop.

I just get lost.

You have nothing but the power you feel from holding me.
Enjoy it while it lasts.

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“but she’s not really going to rule the world or anything is she?”

Amber

Ava

Charlotte

Eva

Georgia

Grace

Josephine

Jude

Lachlan

Lucia

Madeleine

Nicholas

Oliver

Oscar

Romaine

Rose

Ruby


I run

“Are you scared?”
“All the time.”

I am scared.
Can I admit that?

Not scared of shapes in the night.
Not scared of lonely alley ways;
feasting eyes of heartless, soulless leeches.
Not scared of apocalypse, judgment day, end of the world.

I am scared of myself.

Of all the abandonment issues, the most terrifying is my consistent ability to abandon myself.
Reckless, impulsive, caution to the wind
When it all gets too much.

When it all gets too much, I run.

I run.
To keep fit.
To be strong.
To be confident.
To know my body.
To be alone.
To be free.
To know certainty.
To hide.

Periodic calm.
Temporary relief.
From the fear.


The intricacies of friendship

I’ve never much liked the exercise of placing people in any particular metaphorical or metaphysical box.

But the fractious, tumultuous, ‘elating’, scary, freeing nature of the first third of 2011 means that try as might, I cannot avoid the temptation to explore the classes of friendship I have encountered. Just a little.

*   *   *   *   *

She is a sweetheart
She buys me fruit when I am sick.
She brings me movies when I am sad.
She reminds me of sunflowers.
She lets me cry and then joins in.

He is a giver
Or at least that is what he wants you to believe.
Thinks he’s a martyr. He’s not.
Some will be manipulated to feel sorry for him.
But no amount of pity or generosity will cure the self–loathing he endures daily.

She is a taker.
She wants to be cared for, pandered to, spoken to softly,
Treated like a child.
She is naive, somewhat anxious and lives for adoration.
She would take your life if you offered.

He is manic.
Thoughtful, insightful, excellent, genius, manic
He will leave you exhausted, confuse you, force you to question everything.
He will enforce his complex philosophies
He will treat your life as something to be explained in a simple cliché.

She is jealous.
Of my confidence.
Of my self-assured happiness.
Of my ability and intelligence.
Can she not know that to let it go will bring her those that she longs for?

He is my lover.
Generous, kind, thoughtful, sweet.
Sexy.
Like he was born to be mine.  And me to be his. Like my missing puzzle piece.
Two souls that no amount of distance could separate.

She is superficial.
Harmless and generous
Her mind occupied with selection of the appropriate attire for her next social occasion
The friendly, open, outgoing, happy. Socialite.
I fight the temptation to rouse an event that will cause a crack in that porcelain smile.

He is depressed
His eyes are sad. His head is tired. His heart defeated.
He is never alone, but always lonely.
Pills beckon him. Sleep awaits.
He hopes this time to never awake.

She is vengeful
Jealousy’s soulmate.
Protective of her closest.
Hurtful to anyone who threatens her security.
Damaging to anyone, however innocent, who breaches her code.

He is a loyalist
A believer in standing up for his pals
Counted on to vouch for you regardless of the crime
Does he realise his loyalties are not always reciprocated?
Betrayal is an experienced teacher.

She is his ex-lover
Spurned, hurt, betrayed
Still loved, but not as she wishes.
She knows she must retreat and heal.
How to overcome his intense aroma and charm?

He is my best friend
He knows my heart, he knows my body, he knows my head.
With me he is vulnerable.  And I will always protect him.
He laughs. He listens. He hears. He cooks. He cries. He talks. He smiles. He understands.
Lets me be vulnerable. And he will always protect me.