“The secret tugs at my sleeve. A child looking for attention. It is not a big secret. But it is not the only one either. “Strength in numbers” they say. For they are many. Many little things that – together – weigh tonnes. And take up space. And are quite noisy. The way only a lot of whispers can make noise. And they follow me. Little secrets of omission, desire, and denial. Of indulgence, hedonism, and exploration. Of peeves, passion, and deep-seated fear. Little secrets of despair and disrepair and prohibited thoroughfare.” RomanceDesirePassionFearRelationshipsMarriageLonelinessBrokenSorrowDespairAbuseLustDenialInsecuritySecretsInfidelityIndulgenceDisclosureHedonismUnfaithfulnessDisrepair Book:Years: a book of tiny poetry Source: Years: a book of tiny poetry
“I sit on a rock and watch children playing in the park below They don't see me Or know my thoughts Or that you haven't called But I forgive them their indifference today Above me a crow caws Perhaps he smells the crumbs on my dress Or my anger But he flits away over the trees Probably has a home Probably has a wife Probably knew to call The children leave The coffee in my can turns cold The wind nips at me Some street lights flicker on But I won't move Not yet I will wait for the night to chase me Back where I came from Up the empty street To a quiet house” HeartPoetryRelationshipsMarriageSadnessLonelinessSorrowPoemLiesAloneMoving OnInsecurityResentmentLove PoemBreaking UpDesolationGoodbyesBird PoemIndelible WaitingChild Poem Book:Years: a book of tiny poetry Source: Years: a book of tiny poetry