People I Didn’t Want To Think About
An unexpected reunion made me have to think about people and the wounds we inflict on each other.
An unexpected reunion made me have to think about people and the wounds we inflict on each other.
I woke up two nights ago, not knowing why I was awake. No sound had disturbed me, it wasn’t time to wake up.
We are all angry. Seething and out for blood. Where do we go from here? The pandemic has been the arsenic cherry on the difficult lessons of a decade.
There is an interesting thing about memory foam. It yields to your touch & pressure. Not fast, not reacting. More like an indulgence, a consideration. Later it pauses with the impression you’ve left on it, as if ruminating. Just as meditatively it returns to its original self.
It isn’t intimacy unless it feels a little tender.
A lovely return to my late 20s where books absorbed me with a rigour I did not experience in my social or professional life. It was like coming home.
A house that is a warzone. A courtroom for custody battles. Dumping ground for other people’s pain. My body.
If I were fifteen years younger, I’d identify as nonbinary. Gender has been the biggest weapon of the beaten path.
Feeling the tug between two places – one that feels like home and one that is dutifully home.
I have poems by old lovers,
not about me
not the loves,
not the poetry.