Spitting Distance

We
could
have
had
it
all

She
said

But
now
we’re
left
with
nothing

Maybe
we’d
have
been
okay

He
said

If
you
weren’t
so fucking
cutting

‘You Won’t Know Until You Try…’

Should
we
accidentally
meet

On that
busy,
bustling
street

Would
the birds
above us
tweet

As our
hearts
skip a
beat?

Or would I just blether on a whole heap of shite because I’m clinically depressed and unable to formulate a meaningful conversation with anyone of the opposite sex since my partner died so you just give up trying to listen and walk away thinking who the fuck was that lunatic and happily go about the rest of your life whilst I retreat back to my house wondering why the fuck I even bothered going out in the first fucking place?

Futile

Sometimes
I depress
myself

As these
thoughts
fill the
page

Why
am I
here

Wasting
everyone’s
time

Hoping
someone
will
engage

Foreboding

It’s all just so wrong

This shouldn’t be happening to you

Not as it hasn’t been that long

Since it happened to me too

I’m not sure how to act

And I’m not sure what to say

For there’s nothing on earth that can take the pain

Of what is to come away

Killing Time

Why do I
find the
wait so
hard?

Is it
ego?

Is it
pride?

Or is it
because
I need you
to prove

That I’m not
completely
dead
inside?

The Looking Glass

Looking at you
Looking at me

I wonder how
far into
my soul
you can
really see

Looking at me
Looking at you

I wonder
if I’ll ever
believe
what you
say is true

Camping

The warmth of the sun on your face,

The anticipation of a road trip with friends,

The promise of tall tales around the campfire.

It’s the little things that bring the most joy.

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