To Whom It Always Concerns

To Whom It Always Concerns,

Paper is precious in these parts
so this is the last
I will write to you.

There is more to my love than you know
Which is
I found all that I wanted
which was
just simply, you
use your heart as a palette
and people are your paint
I see you as an eager artist liberally and endearingly
stroking and splashing your attention around in broad sweeps and gestures
and brushing, aside to this
all of us want to be the only colour on your canvas
Just you and them alone
The makings of a duotone
(or perhaps a diptych?)
They imagine that they could fit into a frame with you
I did it to
I see now I was just a small part of your picture
I see now we all bear your signature
at the bottom right hand corner
of our hearts.

Signed,

The One No Longer Concerned

Layer Upon Layer

My new skin
only stings
when the shower spray needles hit the spot
that I just cannot
quite put my finger on
I said to the Doc
“there’s a stabbing pain
like a knife in my back”
and quick as a flash
he burnt that sucker off
But
turns out
I pointed to the wrong damn spot
Now I’m going
to have to be growing
some more
when I’ve only just worn in
this new layer of skin
I better begin
at the back
It will be a patch
on the original

Dirty Dishes Sink Shuffle

I’m not listening to any love songs tonight
Not a single, solitary one
No love unrequited, nor passion uninvited
Or love that is over and done
I’ve got the iPod docking station up real loud tonight
and I don’t want no songs about hearts
No two souls united, nor love at first sighted
Or love is the whole of two parts
I’m singing at the top of my lungs tonight
but nothing with lyrics on amore
No moon hitting your eye, nor big pizza pie
Or love that is described in such cliché
I’m not interested in any love songs tonight
I’m skipping tracks as I dance round the sink
No love done me wrong, nor pure, true and strong
Man, there are more songs about love than you think

Ode To A Mysterious Bruise

Oh, mysterious bruise
how you do confuse
I don’t recall
doing anything at all
to cause a haematoma
I didn’t fall over
or walk into a chair
as far as I’m aware
I guess there was some sort of issue
that caused damage to my interstitial tissue
It’s kinda cool how you can change hue
Now you are yellow, first you were blue
When I poke you
it really fucking hurts

The Truth Is Already Known

As I drive home
a mantra to myself
I repeat, I repeat, I repeat
The Truth Is Already Known
It cannot be changed
It has already occurred
and done the damage
We will just have to manage
its consequences
It will be revealed to me
and deal with me
later
There is a terrifying void between
what I know
and have yet to know
The suspension
bridging the two
is what kills me
I can’t turn back
I must drive home
The Truth Is Already Known
there
I repeat, I repeat, I repeat

Now

The present day
is a gift
given to us
from the past
to make up for
previous trespasses
and to then pass on
to the future
as a surprise
unwrapped
then revealed
for the time being
at the present time

Steps

There’s a place I sit
at the top of the steps
where I listen intently
to all that is said
down below
She doesn’t know
I’m here
I hear
I tread carefully so I as to not awake
the floorboards that creak and give me away
And although I don’t understand
all that is meant
I have spent
many hours in this spot
Her voice drifts up in waves
and I can only catch some
of what is said
but it’s enough to know
that it’s about me
and I am scared to be
the cause of her need
to talk so quietly
I worry big
and curl up small
until I hear nothing at all
from my spot at the top of the steps

Jacaranda

A carpet of colour
covers the town
signalling spring’s slow segue into summer
Shrugging off winter’s muted tones
Squinting against the overexposed light
like a photo developed in the dark to reveal a saturation of life
Soon we’ll seek shade for our skin
while sunlight sprinkles down, leaving dappled patterns on exposed limbs
There’s a Monet in our midst called mother nature
and she paints for us the same picture each season
so we can reminisce on days spent
threading flower chains
underneath a canopy that sheds
dollops of paint like purple rain

Dented

There’s a burning sensation in your chest

You just had to bring up your heart again

didn’t you

And now mine’s in my throat

The doctor says he wants to test

yours

But we know it already has been

I say, it can’t hurt

You say, not now that it’s broken

In the silence, we both hear the beat being missed

Then you say, “well, not broken, just dented”

You just had to bring up your heart again

didn’t you

Happy birthing day haiku

Breathe, heave, breathe, heave, breathe
Sluuuurp pop! waaaaah!, place skin on skin
Happy birth day, Mum!

For The Win

I’m cutting my losses
into little tiny pieces
and what I’ve gained
now remains
left
over
and is now over
and done with
I’m cutting my losses
and counting my blessings
but the lessons I’ve learned
have yet to be turned into wisdom
Sometimes I lay them out
All those little tiny pieces
But each time I do, I’m missing another from before
It seems I need to cut some more
It’s better than having nothing at all
And yet there’s nothing to win
because I’m not keeping score
So I’ll cut my losses
and set them free
Toss them into the wind
My own celebratory confetti
I’m cutting my losses
loose

One’s Company

One’s company
and two’s a crowd
there’s safety in numbers
but you’re too proud
to impose on others
so you sit alone
in a cookie cutter room
with nothing but the drone
of the news on loop
and the conditioned air
for comfort and companionship
You’re suddenly aware
that this may be
the way it is for you
forever and forever
And then a text comes though
“How u doin’?" she asks
You pause before you reply
You think about faking
and telling a lie
You think about saying
all is well, all is great
“Having a real fun time!”
But it’s too late
You’re telling her how
you’re not clear any more
“What am I doing?” you ask
You’re so scared and unsure
One’s company, you realise
is just too, too much
but you try to find a way
to live without another’s touch
She sends back support
As much as she can
You keep a copy
to have it on hand
You refer to it repeatedly
It means more than she’ll know
“I hope the cry helped
You are the business xo”

Image

I took a look at myself in the mirror today
to see if could view myself in much the same way
as you would
But it was no good
I realised more than likely the case would be that
you wouldn’t be observing my reflection
You’d be looking straight in my direction
So with one last look at my ass in the glass
I turned right around and walked away
(with just the barest hint of a sway)

Licking the bowl

Sometimes I bake a cake
just so I can lick the bowl
Sometimes the finished product
isn’t my ultimate goal

Biting the air

You once said
we should all spend our days like dogs
Heads out the car window
Not a care where they go
Just snapping at the breeze
Doing as they please
“We should all bite the air”
you said philosophically
Contemplatively
So we drove away from there
and as the wind hung on to my hair
for the ride
I gave you a side
ways glance
and a grin
and we bit the air

Perspective

There’s more than meets the eye level with the sky
Turn once, and now you lie
face to face
Hello, handshake, goodbye.
Space in place of an embrace
How low we make so high

Half a smile each

I come around the curtain
I see you sitting in a chair
Staring intently at a crossword
You’re not aware I’m there
You look up
and then we share
a smile
but now that you’re gone
to God knows where
I guess I get to keep them all for me
I'd say I've got some left spare

So little time, so much time

I watch through the window as you scrape the sole of my shoe
It’s here that she stood, and here was her view
Dear heaven, is this what it’s come down to for you?
Cleaning mud from a tread because you don’t know what else to do?

I ask you often what you’re going to do with your day
“As little as possible and getting away with it” you say
It used to make me laugh, now I'm filled with dismay
I see behind the front and all’s not okay

Soldier On

Oh no!
Not again!
I’ve let my guard down
Look at him
He’s tsk tsk-ing
And tut tut-ing
His look of disappointment
to the bone is cutting
I didn’t mean
to not live up
to his expectations
A half empty cup
He’s standing watch
Always standing by
Always girding and guarding
With an eye-roll and sigh
“She’s done it again!”
he says exasperated
“Why does she do this to me?”
“This job is over-rated!”
But each morning
he goes and gets
his trousers and coat
with its epaulettes
and shines his shoes
and dons his helmet
and assumes his position
but sometimes I forget
what he wants from me
and I’ll see him frown
and I’ll think “oh no!”
“I’ve let my guard down!”
Again.

Face It

You once said I was hard to read
But you were mislead
In truth, I am an open book
It’s just that I would sometimes look
away
If I sensed you trying to flick through my flippin’ pages
Seriously, my back is cracked
My spine is broken
from being so open
Face it, you totally want to play poker with me

Laundry

What I said was never right
I always seemed to be left
hanging
on your every word
out to dry
‘til you’d come by
to take me down a peg or two
You were the basket I put all my eggs in to
What a dumbass thing to do
Now it’s the case
that I’m the basket

A few words on six years

He’s found your book
where you took
notes on who you gave what to
for birthdays and Christmases

Wish I could look
in every nook
and cranny of my mind and find
memories as clear as those records in your writing

So much for the past
That September
we do remember
It will last
and linger

Time shouldn’t be a distance
But in this instance
You feel further away than ever before
And I fear for ever more
the gap will grow and grow
And I’m too slow
to grasp you before you go
even further away

We move on
Leaving you behind
But now I’m watching him writing on the lines
of your book
Updating since your last entry
who got what and when
He does it so you can begin
to join in
and catch up on all that you’ve missed out on

Heart Strings (AKA Listen To Yo Mamma)

I can see the strings of your heart
under a skin so thin and translucent
Those blue lines so fine branching out
tie you two together
She’ll show you the ropes
She knows all the bows
and all the knots
and how to unravel the tangle
that life can bind and blind you to
She’ll show you how to play those heart strings
Life’s melody flows (I see it sing)
In you.

Singular

Cell, you’re sole
but nevertheless
essential to the whole
and always more
than the sum of your parts
Taking your toll
when playing your role
Pay to your heart’s contents
(blood, veins, arteries and vents)
a constant source
through the system sent
And when your job is done
some more will come
to take your place
until one day…
none

Sensitive

If I arose one morning and my eyes couldn’t see
I would trace your face with my fingertips
If one night I couldn’t hear a word you said
I would listen through my hands on your lips
If one day my skin couldn’t feel anything
I’d still be touched that you made time for me
If dawn broke, I awoke, and was no longer clairvoyant
that’s cool, you and I have no need for telepathy
If one soon afternoon I couldn’t detect your scent
I’d sniff the air like a bloodhound on your case
If the buds on my tongue one evening went numb
I’d still lick you all over your face