Scribbled Thoughts

23:83

Earliest memories carry

the scent of smoke,

but I never remember seeing

a cigarette between her lips.

The smell soon disappeared

from childhood recall

and the aroma of cake-baking

took over,

followed by the fond schedule

of weekly visits,

to cross-stitch, to knit,

to read, to talk.

Back before tensions

began to emerge,

back before I became

my own person,

and not a shadow

of what you wanted.

Prompt: Nan’s kitchen

An organised structure, calm but busy.

Dread for most, beginning a long journey.

A strange no man’s land that we struggle through.

A sense of footing established at last.

Motivated to accomplish something of worth.

Wanting a little fun to brighten your hard work.

Trying to balance a day of chores and relaxation.

Stretch and strain

until pain halts your efforts,

builds your frustration and helplessness.

Out of reach

but within sight

it taunts your acceptance

and tickles your dreams

leaving a disturbed shiver

you can’t ignore

but can’t enjoy.

Forever present,

forever untouchable.

Prompt: the untouchable

Rearranged rota to suit their needs

but when you try

to gain your rightful time back

all eyes accuse of laziness,

taking advantage,

not worthy of that reward.

A dismissive comment

confirming you weren’t needed

for the one skill you have

that no one else does.

They’d rather take a chance

and send it anyway

than bother asking

for your help.

Is this the beginning

of not being wanted?

Betrayed by one

nestled on your arm

for so long,

whispering doubts and suggestions

that influenced everything

you believed.

Everything you wanted to be.

Is it wrong to still want it?

Or must you change all you know

because it proved false.

Time is everything

to create the perfect loaf,

to arrive when you’re needed,

to be what you’re supposed to be.

If you’re disjointed you’re

forever a disappointment,

lazy, wasting your life.

Perhaps time is the true God,

unrelenting, unforgiving,

unknowing of how it

effects us mere mortals.

Not caring.

Good Friday,

a day to panic buy

all the bread and cakes,

ready for a picnic that will be

ruined with rain and grumbling,

as always, but which is never expected.

Ask for later dates we can’t provide

because they don’t exist yet

and express disgust at the one day

everything will be closed,

becoming the biggest inconvenience

in your life, even though you’re

already here today.

Will your gathering be happy,

or is your mood given to everyone

outside of customer service too,

so even your family dread

seeing you walk towards them.

Finger rolls,

bread that names itself

wanting you to imagine

cannibalism as you slice it

open, butter its insides

and consume its soul,

without even contemplating

whose fingers you are devouring.