Scribbled Thoughts

My insides are

melted chocolate

thick and stained

but enticing,

delicious,

worth the calories.

Save my details,

so at least

the screen

remembers me,

feels I’m important

and is waiting

for my return.

Let the fresh air

kiss your cheeks

and bask in your existence,

sprinkle inspiration

and pass it around,

flowing from moment to moment

until everything

is connected.

Rely on me,

bleed me dry,

work me to exhaustion

when you have the need.

Then, when the crisis is over,

pin me with all mistakes,

whisper and ridicule

gloating that I’m not wanted.

Why do I let this happen?

Why am I less than nothing?

Pull on a uniform

one week later

and feel your

individuality

slip away,

your personality

shut down,

your soul

screaming

where no one

can hear you.

Picturing these scenic moments

in the future,

guiding a smaller younger me and you,

teaching them the delights

of the sea,

the magic of the woods,

the thrill of fresh foods.

It almost seems real,

it almost seems possible

that we might be

good at it.

A day to celebrate

and acknowledge a unit,

and a day I feel

the most alone

in a while,

trapped in magnified hints

that probably mean nothing

but cut deep

and press doubt

against contentment.

Barnacles and Bernard

the shop’s guardian dragon,

both regular sights

in a place that

smells like fresh salt

and whose sands

soothe your feet

to smoothness.

Drink in the last day,

breathe the moments

of freedom

and dream of returning

and experiencing it

all again.

Coastal path

to view the edge

of everything,

contemplate the end

of your world

and reflect on

what has been

worth it,

what you should

have dropped

over the side.

Pack away the luxuries

with a full-day left to enjoy

feels like a slap in the face,

a shout of denial,

a statement that happiness is over.

Maybe we’ll experience it again

in the future.