The circle-cycle sings its song
Where now the strength to carry on?
To do the things your love revealed
Before the truth became too real
And stories told unravelled fast
Leaving clouded shades of past.
I take my place upon the stage
No longer searching for your gaze,
There find the strength to carry on;
The circle-cycle song is sung.
I stare at the passing bus
Wondering how much
The wheels would hurt
As they roll over me
But it would be extreme
To watch my body bend
Just for the sake
Of getting out of work
When the only reason
I don’t want to go
Is there is so much life
I want to live
(I think I may need a new job folks.)
Maybe now its time
To learn to breathe for myself
Rather than for you
Again nightmares come
Dream on knowing it won’t end
When I am awake
I trust a man I’ve never met
To put a razor to my neck.
There with his blade to take great care
As trimming every little hair
He tries to make me someone new;
A lot like one who once you knew.
‘Fore I abandoned self respect
I’d daily trim and keep in check
But since that fall my will is gone,
The hair upon my face grows long.
Untidy and unkempt they say;
What reason do I have to change?
The years they pass and slip away,
I live in memories and pain,
Self loathing grows like mental rust,
I have to learn again to trust,
Yet cannot bring myself to do
The same, with anyone since you.
I sit here staring at a face
Which once in photographs I traced:
The ones in which our lips would meet
As there we stood upon the street.
Back then I was a different man
Now he is gone and so his plans.
This clinging to what was won’t aid
Nor should I dwell in doleful shade
For only in this moment now
Is found the why, the where, the how,
The reason that I let him hold
A blade which shall remove the old.
I dreamed of you again, yet this time it was not you.
I walked through the ground floor of Queen Margaret’s hospital, a place I havent been for years, talking on the phone.
The line went dead.
Frustrating though it was, it was not a conversation I was engaged with.
I looked out of the ground floor window at the grass.
Why I was there I do not know.
My phone rings
I look down
Is that you
Yes its me
(I get her name wrong as always)
Or her voice
My heart beating like a drum wrenches me from sleep and I am faced with the realisation that this is not true, that call never came, but you vanished just as completely.
Important project deadlines
So I brush the cat