I will place in my box

When I was 6, my teacher asked me to write a poem
I had to write about a magic box and what things I would place in my box to keep it for a lifetime
I wrote that I will place in my box the shimmer of snow on a summers day
It was magic and I was young, after all.
I wrote that I would place in my box, the blackest horse with the shiniest coat.
I will place in my box, the sound of the sea in a single shell
The crunch of the leaves on an autumn day.

Now, all I want to place in that box is you.
To protect you
To keep you for a life time
If only I could go back.
Turn back the clock to the magical childhood land
Where a box could protect you, keep you safe.

I’m sorry
Because now, I don’t have you.
I have the shimmer of snow on a summers day
I have the blackest horse with the shiniest coat
I have a single shell, haunting me with the sound of the sea
I have the crunch of the leaves on an autumn day.
But no one left to share it with.

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I will place in my box

Young and dumb

I was too much for you
Too me, you see, too intense too.

You called me stupid once, to try and make me go.

I was far too much for you, you know.

You said I was too intense.
Too much unwanted feeling.

You told me that I needed someone who felt the same as me,
Not you, though – whose heart still needed healing.

You told me I needed someone young and fit,
To keep up with all my energetic ways.

You told me I needed someone who actually wanted to spend my days.

You told me that I needed to be calm,  and not this energetic gnat,

Told me I needed someone who could help me out with that.

Too young, too dumb, too intense.

But when I find someone who feels the same,
who says the same things I said to you.
Who does the same things I do,
who feels the same way for me as I felt for you.

Finally all I want to do, is actually say it but this time to him, not to you.

Young and dumb

Tessellation

They taught me to tessellate.

With potatoes at first;
We cut triangles out of the starchy flesh and painted them in thick wet poster paint.

We moved on to squares,
And then to pentagons
working out which bits fit
And which bits don’t.

Making patterns, bright and colourful

Tessellations.

We moved on from pentagons since.

 

Tessellation

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I’ll forever feel guilty I lied to you.

Why, you ask, did I lie?

Because they told me you’d spend it on drugs and booze and you’re only here because of you.

I’ll forever feel guilty that I told you I didn’t have one.

Because I know that I can stick a piece of plastic into a god damned machine, and see on the screen a thousand of them.

I’ll forever feel guilty that I’m standing here, earning money for nothing, earning money for me, earning money for millionaires, giving money for free.

And you are weeping in the snow and the rain and the cold.

I’ll forever feel guilty I lied to you – I just hope that you prove me wrong.

I imagine that you did get the job, paid 18 grand. And went home your son.

I see you sitting with him by the fireplace, holding his hand, playing games and having fun.

You sing him a lullaby of all things nice and talk about his dreams.

He dreams big and bold, the whole world in his hands.

He doesn’t, not yet, really understand.

That he’s bottom of the chain.

Because his father is poor.

Left out on the street.

Not a home, a job no nothing more

Than the shoes on his feet and the care in his heart.

That this doesn’t allow you the very best start.

But you don’t see your son, for yet another three years.

In the snow and the rain and the cold, you’re weeping, sobbing, screaming those tears.

Asking me for a pound.

And I’ll forever feel guilty that I lied to you.

I do, indeed, have more than one pound.

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