Poetry

Drink it black.

Add no sugar.

Robust flavour.

If you like it that way.

I just want my creamer

and am currently out.

Is it deep enough?

Can the coyotes still get you?

How many exits do you have?

Are the trolls still living there?

Can you ever emerge back into the sunshine?

Or are you stuck, scared deep down within the hole?

I am not going to be happy.

Today I will allow myself to feel.

I feel sad.

I want to be okay.

Happy is fleeting

and I will feel it again.

But today,

today I feel sad.

Thank you for asking.

I am doing okay.

Are you well?

No?

Is there anything I can do for you?

Okay.

May I sit next to you then?

Silence passes between us and that is okay.

Lethargy.

Hopelessness.

Sense of displacement.

Loss of focus.

Tired.

Tired of feeling this way.

Again.

Tomorrow

may or may not

be better.

A tall tale

stretched thin.

Unraveling the plot

all jokes aside.

Stringing the readers along

while trying to tie up the knots.

What a wonderful piece

was woven.

Put in a box.

Placed on display.

Worn to protect.

Ubiquitous with danger.

Leaks are terrifying.

Who is the culprit of this now iconic, classic symbol of safety?

More importantly, why is nobody wearing them daily?

To cars crashing.

To the body demanding fluid relief.

To children crying.

To eyes that refuse to weep.

To burning oxygen.

To lungs clouded and diseased.

To buildings collapsing.

To hunger that never weakens it grip.

To a world of pain.

To the morning light which shines a new dawn.

To anything

that says I’m still alive.

Truces are hard to negotiate.

Generosity is expected.

Trust is implied.

Compromise is demanded.

Vulnerability is weakness.

Yet the strength of those who seek it

Gain a selfless forgiveness.

Drool runs down

Onto the blanket.

Onto the pillow

Staining the sheets.

Friends laugh when the dog does it.

Lovers are usually not so forgiving.