Bad Days
July 2, 2008
Don’t tell me that you’ve not
had days like these,
when sun’s come up
and you’ve been
dead in blankets,
breathing dark
as sky’s blue,
shines a fist of morning hours.
Don’t tell me that you’ve never felt
your insides twist like plastic bags
your heart hammer
in its rags, your breath thicken.
Don’t tell me that the world is safe
that nothing bad will ever happen,
no ones ever left you,
that you’ve never felt
your centre crack, but –
don’t tell me that there aren’t days
to lift up in like open parks.
Where sun hangs
a golden charm – and you
won’t feel it on your skin.
Don’t tell me that sometimes
you won’t hear beats,
or cups of tea or soft sheets and
people that you love
who love you back.
Don’t tell that there’s no point.
Or tell me that –
but don’t tell it me forever.
This is wonderful. Your writing keeps getting stronger ad stronger.
I like it. Thanks for sharing. š