sex – talking to my pillow.

Notes 30/8

You’re leaving me haggard and quivering

I didn’t realise the extent of my obsession

The length of my lust

The pitiful preparedness wilting

I was never ready, it seems, to do battle

To tread these muddy, murky waters

And fight for breath beneath a rough surf

You’ve left me to wonder, sit, pensive

Write words of passive aggression

And mumble to myself on jaunts to green spaces

Confusion mounts and I’m throwing up fear in a rainbow-hued dizzying spell of colours

I’m wobbling, while tensions mount

Grasping my phone like it’s a tank of oxygen

Almost wishing away the long weekend because it’s all too painful

To ingest

Too exhausting

To swallow.

The journey has come to a screeching halt

From pedal to floor

I heard its thunderous roar

As it stopped dead in its tracks.

Panic ensued

Anxiety came

Asking myself “what is this game?”

Because we’ve started shuffling cards, dealing hands

And I’m no longer chugging along sands

Of limp, moth-eaten metal

No carriage to rest or settle

Just an abrupt shove into a passerby

Flung from my seat with emotions awry

Buckle up babe it’s going to be a bumpy ride

From here on out

With this particular duvet-lipped guy.