It’s not often I talk about this,
The hiss of withdrawal enough of a
Buffer, buttressed with smiles, and
All the while I’m cataloguing, projecting,
Protecting, soothing, smoothing the air between us:
Must be seen serene, seamless.
“Are you all right?”
A smile lights me - too tight, they’ll spot
It’s not enough, and I can shore up my rebuff,
Bluff standing for honest,
Best bluster this one out,
Doubtless testing everything about us.
“I’m sorry!”
“That’s all right!” It’s not, see -
Careless normality has creased me;
I’ll lease three nights to regret again,
And yet I can’t. I can’t forego. I won’t…
No - I’ve sacrificed enough to chance.
I’ll dance instead of sitting still;
I’ll thrill to late nights and pay the price;
I’ll eat my fill and do it all again,
And deign to fuck regret, and fuck it to a standstill,
Grandiose and canted, cheat my way through ill health;
A wealth of memories will grace my final resting place.
I’ll say: “Just a twinge. I’ll live. Just hug me gentler
“Next time, eh?”
And they will rearrange their expectations,
Bend exasperation the way of my genetic assay, smile
While fending and feeding their own demons,
None of which, it would appear, are my responsibility.
I may have mentioned before, but I have a chronic condition known as Hypermobility Syndrome, and it means that even a simple hug can bugger my neck/ shoulder/ back for a few days if everyone’s not careful. Also: I like dancing, and the way I dance probably isn't great for fucked-up joints, but hey…
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