I give up
I give up myself to love,
kindness, quiet mornings with coffee,
books and music,
nurturing my chilli seedlings,
walking to work and seeing the changing seasons.
I surrender
and let go.

light plays
and shadows dance
to the melody

I thought about writing a love letter
but it felt silly
I am not really sure how I feel
let alone certain that it is love
I tolerate myself
but love?
So I abandoned the idea
and decided
to try and just be my friend.

I am the river.
I am the pebble, on the river bed.
I am the water.
I am the flow.
Change.

I am alive between the silences.
The silence before birth and after death.
Now the window is open and I listen
to the birds and the hissing radiator.
Traffic murmurs in the distance
(the flow)
seconds pass.
There is stillness.
There is birdsong.
By increments the day brightens towards sunrise.
I am the pebble.
I am the blood.
I am the platelet.
I am the herringbone sky.

I have lain on the floor knowing I was beat
melting and relaxing into defeat,
the blue tiles absorbing my failure.
I found eventually that I was cold
and I picked myself up.

Winter
Spring
circles

the vernal equinox has passed
light grows and the plants in my window
bud and leaf
fern fronds uncurl
I have chilli seeds ready for planting

I have lain on the floor
on the blue suicide tiles

I have been silent

move slowly
heal
bud and leaf

I bow to the East
I bow to the West
I bow to the Sun, the Moon and the rest
I bow to thee
and then I am still
and try to find the courage
to show the same respect to me

I lower my gaze
then shut my eyes
and breathe

him:love
her:is it?
him:obsession?
her:now you're talking.
him:unrequited love
her:too often a posh way of saying stalking. Learn to listen to the No.
him:
her:better