Knowing 15

The years of the struggle with me
and the sunlit years with another.
It’s still a privilege.
I’ll know I was in the trenches with you.
We might die here together
or I will get you out, whatever it takes.
If fortune smiles, we’ll walk out alive
together.
And if we part then:
still, it will have been an honour.

Leaving 12

The part of me that hopes
for a life with you
is dying hard.
Screaming for help.
Gouging at my eyes
as I try to strangle it.
Holding on to the ledge
as I chop its fingers off
one by one.
Clinging to the door frame of the plane.
Spitting out the poison.
Holding its breath in the submerged car
and then finding an airpocket
and then slicing its arms to the bone
battering out the windows.
It will die. It is doomed.
But it will be slow, and messy,
and cost me much.

Becoming 2

Am I asking you to save me
to deny my own agency?
So I can say I didn’t want it
but you made me do it?
Life, that is.
Well, whatever –
every life is a collaboration.
Why not partner in this?
Thanks, partner,
I owe you one.
Life, that is.

Leaving 11

There’s a part of you
in a moment
in time
that is still
and at peace.
At rest
in my arms.
I am in
that moment
with you.
There,
we will never be
apart.
Can we make
that moment
now?
And that place,
here?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Meanwhile,
sleep.
And know
I will never
abandon you.

Leaving 15

Walking around
pretending I’m alive.
Ticking my boxes,
eating my pellets.
If they realise I’m dead
they’ll try to revive me
and this way at least
I get some peace.
So I walk around
ignoring the pain
pretending I’m dead
pretending I’m alive.