These Timid Words

When I am nervous, my hands shake 

Like leaves taunted by some cruel wind

And if I stand on one leg

My ankles roll inwards, weak. 

Sometimes when I feel sad

My fingernails dig for treasure,

Deep in the pale flesh of my arm-

I tighten ribbons at my waist

Breath in, back straight,

And smooth my forehead.

Like this, see?

We walked along the beach front

All glowing cheeks and pale shins-

Dancing barefoot, like the freckles

On the bridge of your nose

Brown eyed, happy.

I will wash the ocean from my hair-

Crimson lips will pale, fade

Seashells passed from palm 

To palm will whisper,

Linger on. 

I can feel the shadows pressing

Against the hollow skin around my eyes

My ankles click and tut in disapproval

My shoulders groan dismay and tire

I lie still, 

And hope to fade away. 

I cannot shy away from

The rain, it speaks 

And I listen to the way it falls and 

Bird song, ruffled feathers

Gentle pitter-patter 

On a canopy of leaves

Make the rivers sing

In rippling circles to

Hold each other close

To feel

Alive.  

We were us before we knew ourselves;

Stretching out the sunsets

Muddy knees, victorious,

Sometimes you didn’t let me play 

Because I was a girl…

Wriggling like eels,

Dodging freshly cut grass in Summer 

And snow in late December;

Waging wars on the next street down,

The other school, 

The green jumpers vs our blue. 

I was freckles and scabby knees,

Awkward, shyly knocking at your door…

You had snakes and your brother rode a motorbike. 

I liked you.

They’ve long since trimmed the hedgerows

We used to hide in;

They’ve cut down the big tree across the park,

But I remember 

Wild and sweet as ripened plums

Hurled at passing cars. 

My anxieties resonate around a high F

They echo around for days, sometimes weeks on end

You taught me how to sing this way

The sparrow understands

I don’t. 

I rise and I rumble and I reach

Eyes filled with dust,

The shrapnel left by dreams that I don’t remember

I feel hollow, I feel paper thin

Running hands over my creases

A breeze might blow and wish me far away;

I am pale

And the light from my open window

Shines through to reach the surface

One bite, and one swallow

Singing sweetly for the sunrise

Yellowed edges, corners worn smooth
By years of restless fingers
Cigarette ash and copper pennies-
Knock me, hollow smile against the table
Tease me, test me, twist or
Stick with me kid, you’ll be fine.
Shuffle and scatter,
Many faces all in disarray-
Break me. Hide me in your sleeves.
Triple aces, hearts and diamonds,
Greed.

Aching and bruised
Limbs limp against a wheelchair’s embrace
I am led along distant corridors
In the dead of night;
Past darkened rooms,
Shadowy figures of dormant disease,
The sound of rusted wheels on an uneven floor
The only comfort to my growing fear.

We used to keep things secret. 

I kept mine under my pillow, sealed with a tiny silver padlock; I was always losing the key, having to force the pages open or discard it and start afresh. I still have a draw full of them, impenetrable, unreachable, a draw full of secrets from when I was smaller and didn’t know as much. 

We don’t have diaries or journals now, we write them across the internet instead. We read deeper into each other’s tragedy, suddenly aware that we have crossed the line between ignorance and involvement; but we do nothing. We say nothing. How can we? 

We sit in silence in front of our computer screens and scroll through chapter after chapter of one another’s demons, cries for help or pleas for forgiveness. We know too much. We do too little. 

I remember, we stood tall as we wandered through icy streets of grey;

I wrote a song about it once.

We were loud and insecure but it was all okay, because nobody knew me quite as well as you did.

We would laugh and recite lyrics to songs that used to mean something to us;

I haven’t listened to them in months.

It seems strange, somehow.

Do you ever think about those infinite conversations?

I always knew when, how, who you were.

It’s not like that any more.

Now, you make smiley faces next to quiet, conservative replies;

politely spelling out your laughter, like I

Don’t know the difference.

I forget my place, because I know I let you down,

And I’m sorry, and I miss you;

But I don’t mind, not really,

As long as you’re happy.

Are you?

Happy?