Update on poem videos

I haven’t had a chance to do any poetry videos/uploads for about a month due to awkward timing. I’m a person who can’t make a phone call if someone else is in the room or challenge a hard boss fight in games without feeling self-conscious or judged. The last month my husband (who works nights, I’m still on furlough) has been sleeping downstairs on the sofa bed because of the weather making it unbearable to sleep upstairs. This means I have to be really quiet because I still work/read/play downstairs while he sleeps. If I start talking to do a video he stirs. It put me off for a while, but now I’ll either try going upstairs or record them at night when he’s at work.

Hopefully I’ll get to the point I can record them with him in the room, we’ll see (he doesn’t really get poetry, lol, but he is my rock and I love him).

Some of the videos might be a bit dark because of this, but I hope it doesn’t bother you too much.

Prompt 387

‘You’ve definitely improved,’ I said, swallowing the slightly lumpy mash, ‘But I’m still better.’

            A stunned silence followed. She looked at me, the smile morphing into confusion, then deep hurt.

            Oh God, why would I say that?

            ‘Oh, okay,’ She shook her head and put on a shaky smile, ‘I mean, I don’t mind some constructive criticism, but that was a crappy way of putting it.’

            I nodded, surprised at her language.

Fix this, I begged myself.

            ‘You never mince your words with me,’ I hear myself saying, ‘So why do I need to with you?’

            This time a bitter smile settled on her face as she slowly rose from her chair.

            ‘Really?’ She pointed at the mantlepiece, where my self-portrait hung. ‘If I didn’t mince my words, I’d tell you I fantasize about burning that abomination every time I look at it. Who even hangs a portrait of themselves anyway? I live here too, where’s my place on the mantlepiece?’

            She stomped her foot –stomped her foot– and left the room, face full of fury.

            I stuttered to myself for a few minutes, looking down at the lumpy mash to try find answers.

            What on Earth is going on?

            ‘What’s wrong with my portrait?’ I bellowed, standing to follow her out the room.

            Watching from her realm, Chiqap giggled and settled down to watch the show. There was going to be a lot of break-ups and files for divorce before the twenty-four hours were up.

Poem idea

20:110

Tip toe as you sleep,

breathe quietly, pretend

not to exist.

Perhaps you no longer

do outside this house,

in a new purgatory

called furlough.

Do you want to leave it?

Back to a job of bitchy

comments and demands?

No, but do I have a

purpose here? Or have

I already been forgotten.

Was I ever needed

at all?

Tip toe as you sleep,

and slowly fade      

out of existence.

It’s what the world

wants anyway.

Poem idea

20:108

Content smile at

the sound of your snores,

losing time as I

gaze at your sleeping face.

My chest so full of

warmth that you

exist for me, with

a small flutter of

fear at the thought

of our mortal status.

Capture these moments

with a sneaky snap

on my mobile, so

I can gaze even

when you’re not

here. Until the

moment we’re together

again, I’ll replay

and remember.

Poem idea

20:107

I don’t know why these

thoughts cross my mind,

especially in my happy life,

but they do.

I imagine drinking bleach,

or spraying bug killer

down my throat,

and my husband coming

home to find my corpse.

A life he loves more than

his own gone before him.

Or do I flatter myself

too much?

These dark thoughts

last only a moment

as I shake my head

and continue to bleach

the sink, kill

the flies.

Why such dark tests

of love spring to mind

instead of the

everyday proof

I already receive?

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