The Struggle

When you see me, you see the finished article.

Washed, dressed, hair in place, make up on and a smile on my face.

But you don’t see what it takes to get there.

You don’t see me trying to muster the strength to open my eyes in the morning.

You don’t see me forcing my weary bones out of bed.

You don’t see me berating myself as I sob in the shower.

You don’t see me looking in the mirror as I question whether or not today is the day.

You don’t see me wracked with indecision on what to wear.

You don’t see me soothing my pain as I twist and pull out my hair.

You don’t see me apply make up in the hope it makes me disappear.

You don’t see me riddled with anxiety as I lurk in the doorway.

You don’t see me breathing deeply before finally pushing open the office door.

When you see me, you see the finished article.

But just because you don’t see the struggle, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

Just because you see me smile, it doesn’t mean it’s real.

How I look, is not how I feel.

An Unwanted Gift

You’ll always carry it with you,
The pain.

You can try to wrap it differently.

Use an alternative box,
Choose a shiny wrapping paper.
Secure it with ribbon,
Even glue on a fucking huge bow,
If you like.

But you’ll still carry it with you,
The pain.

Like a gaudy present nobody wants to open.
An unwanted gift you can never return.

Bank Holidays

Days off
are always
difficult.

There’s
so much more
time to fill,
without you.

So many
memories
of what we
used to do.

I’d rather
be at
work.

At least
there, I
get paid
to be
miserable.

The Loaded Gun

Time marches on
As I come undone
And my memories fade further away.

I try to hold on,
To ignore the loaded gun
As I trudge through another day.

Out

The days march on,
But I trail behind.
Out of step,
Out of place,
Out of time.

Lies

There is no better place.
Those we love don’t walk beside us.
There are no other rooms.
You will stand at that grave and weep.
There are more than five stages.
There are more than two parts.
Tears are not silent.
There is no peace or comfort to find.
Time heals nothing.
You’ll always walk alone.

And grief is like a fucking tsunami,
so good luck learning to swim in that.

 

Up ↑