I remember when
I became
Definite lines
Before then I was a half sketch,
With holes and gaps
Things could easily seep out
And they did.
Horrible residual bits of me left on the floor
I was a blur
I appeared at parties as a set of double lines
Nothing held me in
And people saw through me
And around me
I was small floral patterns on a pale background
A little bloom, a potted plant on a brick structure
The sunflower seed
The one that germinated in the shade
The spindly stunted one
Spreading spiky leaves
Out in the semi darkness
Clasping at drips of water
That were absorbed into mortar
But somehow between the dance tracks
And the last track
I formed
And maybe some of it was you.
But I drew the lines.
Real and definite and clear.
I dredged them out of alcohol sodden carpet,
And blood stained sheets,
As fingers clasped at my neck
I made my lines hold firm.
I took a bruise or two
I stole a brick from that wall
And replaced that flimsy stem
I shed those useless leaves
I stole every brick,
Every strip of wall paper
And my brightness shone out
above the wall
Clear, definite and real
And you
The sight of you,
the smell of you
Became a blur
Off in the distance
A faraway spot on a fading horizon
I can barely see it
even if I bring my hand to shade my eyes
A strange sooty spot
on the heel of the shoe that is my life
I clean you off.
I am definite and real.
Lines coloured in, and you?
You, I have forgotten,
Left behind on the doormat of life
A Tuesday Latte 