Friday, December 11, 2009


We're all made up of broken parts.
We lose small pieces along the way.
That's just the way it is, my darling.
Limbs, memories, convictions, things we were given to hold for others.
So it has been,
so it will be, I expect.

But I have an arm and you have a leg, and together we'll make our way nicely.
Trundling along, not, as I once thought, like some grotesque parody of a child's toy,but as two somethings that fit.
And move smoothly.
We just need a little time to find our balance, some semblance of a rhythm.

And it's not that I don't know who I am without you, or that I am incomplete.
A puzzle piece is still a piece,
when apart from the whole,
it is recognizable for what it is.
Just that I am better, with you.
A whole piece of the bigger whole.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

A letter.

Dear whoever might be listening.

I am occupying a fatalistic space at the moment.
Every time we drive down the street, or turn the corner, or cross the road I think,
"we might die".
And when we reach the other side, or continue smoothly, engine running, baby gurgling in the backseat, I am surprised.

I wonder if I'm normal.
I've been told that I'm not. But perfectly ordinary people die crossing the road, it happens all the time.
I've read it in the newspapers.

My head is empty today, and my chest is numb.
I took a tablet last night.
It's so peaceful.
If I sit very still I cease to exist.

I wonder, when I sign things "Love me",
do I mean, with love from me?
Or please, please love me.
Remember me, remember my words, think of me fondly from time to time.

Love me.