I cycled out to Kovan to eat dinner, instead of facing my parents over the table. I've forgotten how long it's been since I've talked to them properly. How I missed the feeling of not being scrutinized, just sitting outside at the empty taxi-stand, watching faces pass by; faces in cars, in buses.
Just a stranger.
Passed by a funeral eulogy on the way back. I'm not sure why I stayed to listen. Funny how they say so many good things about you when you die.
I really don't understand why I felt so jealous of someone I don't know.
broken by the rain
I am broken by the rain,
leaves telling on the fall,
poems I have missed
when I refused to rise up
to the dreaming in their call.
I am broken by the rain,
silence taking to the streets,
the falter and linger
that did not matter once
till my past learned to speak;
neither iron nor names
hewn to the bone,
but the losses I cut
when I know it's due
to call a stone a stone.
why can't I smile for real anymore?
am I just a lie?
or have I allowed myself to become this faux face
