and i do not yearn to be on the wrong end –
of dangerous egotists
maybe working from a home-space
is how i manage my head-space

i slept on the sofa
just for a while
to try and lift the fog

it was grey this morning
i stepped outside
and the cool may air
filled my lungs
and open my eyes

i talked about love
when socially,
i could barely manage a hug

what is the new normal
raindrops,
but more formal?
hugs all round
but with such a different sound

what is coping
it is never really explained
i was never told as a child

i think you grieve for what you feel
you never had
a remote island of a mum
a breakdown truck of a dad

e way you came
it is a one way street
and memory lane
quickly forgets your feet

i saw a bottle of your attachment
and it had spilt, all over the floor
i saw your world
struggle with its chores

your eyes
have always told stories
that have ladles of emotion
just as your childhood
is the disrupted commotion