On crying.

When is the exact point
---> .
that those tears you sob
become dry? And with
that, you feel better?
Like a star ---> *
?

Autumn

Greys like Rimmel, and
dark blue like home, and
with that cherry blossoming
like me blushing, I'm
wondering whether...

That Man

He is Off-Peak.
(Maybe even Super Off-Peak.)
Suited, never a nice word,
never those yellow roses.
Next time. Always a
next time.
And it would be ironic,
anyway; him and me at the station.
Maybe I'd do it then.
Wave him off and pretend,
so that he'd not know it was
the last time.

The way to say he wouldn't be
at my wedding.

Illusions of a Detox

There I am
In this lovely haze of lemon and fresh ginger
seeing things because I am empty.
That little flash in the corner
is
a dog.
I thought it was a dog. But it flew into my eye so maybe it was just _.
So tired too that it's easier to be a misfit and lie
in bed with more ginger.
Talking but not recognising the words that are coming out. They are a puzzle.
A puzzle that even me in my empty world can't work out. Maybe the noise is flying around too, into my ears, my eyes, my cup.
Endless sodding cups.
And then to go so erratic, trying to breathe but all of them hyper, and then I was smiling in my empty side. Smiling that I was doing this to try and feel better, and laughing to myself that I was seeing imaginary puppies.