Thursday, 8 February 2018


Sorry I lied
Sorry I deceived
Sorry I brokes the rules.

Sorry I disappointed you
Sorry I caused problems,
Yet again.

I'm sorry for my actions
But I can't be sorry for the way I feel.

I can be responsible,
Regretful,  remorseful.
But I can't control, the intrusive thoughts.

I want to move forwards
But I also want to go back.

Back to the "chilled out",
To the relaxed, the happy,
The confident and strong.

He's taken my strength for now
But I know you are right
When you say I can't let him keep it.

I need to fight - not only the thoughts and feelings
But to regain control.

Control over my thoughts,
My actions,
My emotions,
My responses.

I don't think I'm reading too much into it,
To me, your comment meant a lot.
Unexpected but so meaningful
And said so genuinely.

It's something no one ever voiced so directly.
That's what I'm holding onto,
For now.

Tuesday, 6 February 2018


You're busy
He's busy
She's busy
They're busy.

Looks like I'm going to be busy too.
Not how you would like, but then what does it matter,
You are all busy.

If you weren't busy we could talk,
Do word puzzles,
Snuggle up on the sofa in the lounge,
And chill out with others.

But my mental state does not permit  other in,
Certainly not a group,
And certainly not from my side of the fence.

I need someone from the busy side.
By day they may be busy but still there is time to be spared, shared.
By night there's not enough to go around.

Not enough bodies to spare for the evening crisis,
Of which there are many.
The 10 o'clock bewitching hour appears to have changed.

For 8.30pm the haunting anxiety begins,
following me around like a shaddow of poor mental health.
Talking means sharing some of those demons,

Yet tonight they trapped,
Although not for long.
Released in my own desperate manner.

I promise I tried to get help,
Asking anyone and everyone who passed me at the office door,
But to no avail.

I can't help but take the 'busy' personally.
Yesterday another patient was given the assistance that I felt my desperation required.

It in itself is a problem that need to be addressed.
The 'busy'.
The night time response is almost certainly guarantee to be that;

Monday, 5 February 2018

Will you promise me a maybe?

Will you promise me we can always talk?
Be open and honest with each other,
Laugh and joke?

Will you promise me that you'll always be there?
Even if I have to wait for you
Or search to find you?

Will you promise me that you will never hurt me?
Or at least warn me of the dangers that lie ahead,
With as much will that's within your power.

Will you promise me that if you see me again, you'll recognise me?
Remember our relationship as it was,
Then see it as something new.

Will you promise me something?

That one day,
Some day,
However long it takes,
That you'll hug me?
Embrace me?
Comfort me?

I know you can't give me those as promises for now,
But in the future,
Can that promise be a maybe?

Saturday, 3 February 2018

Red flag relationship

I want her to be my Miss Honey to me as Matilda

Friday, 2 February 2018

Red Flag

A week ago the flag was white,
Yet now its postbox, phone box red,
Blood red.

And they're multiplying.

I don't mind the flags,
They provide a sort of comfort,
In their own confused way.

They provide a secret language.
Words I cannot utter.
Thoughts I hate to admit.

I wish I could change the colour.
In fact there are other colours.

The envious green
The purplexed purple
The gloomy grey.

Sadly the red warning is where its at.
I hope with time it will fade,
From red through dusty pink,
Back to the non needy white.

At least the flags are not only seen by my eyes.
You help me recognise.
Leaving the flags flying in the past.

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