The Year

The Year. 
 
Days Roll. 
One to the next. 
Cloudy. 
Smoke clouds, rain clouds, mind clouds. 
Not Sunny, not rainy. Grey. 
Void of pinks, purples, oranges and greens, sparkle, fizz, crackle, bang or wallop.  
You seek animation in the inanimate. 
 
Days Roll. 
One to the next. 
Submerged in a pretend life. Playing at being an alternate you. 
Counterfeiting happiness. Star of your own show. Poor reviews. 
Below the surface, slowly eroding. On the surface, keeping up appearances. 
 
Days Stop. 
Bombshell. No sleep. Wide eye panic. Disbelief. Overwhelmed. 
Tummy churning; tummy teeming. 
Seduced, betrayed and ensnared into a fragile bubble. We can do this. We can do this? 
Enough. Don’t bite your tongue, let your lips be undone. 
Affix your armour, prepare for battle. With him, with yourself. 
“Beware; for I am fearless and therefore powerful.”
 
A New Day 
Home. Time to recapture you. 
Ebb and flow. Don’t you dare give up. 
Woe-is-me is not an attractive narrative. 
Fresh air scrubs, scours and sterilizes,
Best friends connect and consolidate,
The unstoppable force of family, tough love, the uncanny ability to piece you back together. 
 
 
A New Year. A Rediscovered You.
Pull out your positive pants and sew them into your skin. Needle and thread. 
Cast aside the colourless. 
What seem to us bitter trials are often blessings in disguise. 
Nobody will ever dare take my sparkle again.