Poetry Thursday: caught in that place

I am not a fan of passive aggressiveness, it makes me feel uncomfortable because for some reason it does not seem to warrant me pointing out when comments have been directed at me because somebody can easily turn around and make out you are being paranoid, or it is about something/someone else, yet they can still hurt. This is something I find hard to deal with and therefore will vow to try my very hardest to not be passive aggressive towards anyone from now on. I shall either say what I meant to a persons face, or not say anything at all. If you are not willing to talk about a problem or issue then I do not believe you should hold the right to make comments, digs and hints.

Also, I fear I have a problem of giving all my care and support to one person, even if it isn't always needed. This scares me and also saddens me. I have recently managed to balance friendships more evenly gained the ability to take support/advice from multiple people rather than just one. The truth is that I have a hell of a lot inside of me to offer to people and I'm going to start giving it to multiple people who need/want whatever kind of support. I have become better at doing this in the past few months, but I am not completely happy with this part of me yet. I feel young, foolish and like I am too much. Or not enough. Or too eager. Or too useless.

I keep trying to remember what Chelsea wrote on a post it note for me last year – 'you are enough, you do enough, you try enough'.

Hopefully I well get there in the end.

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Poetry Thursday: cancer of the Kardia


My heart did not speak, but howled - 'I feel more like a tumor'

I didn't want to admit it was right,

instead I pushed it through tensed intercostals

and carried it in a red tractor. We drove on A roads

holding up traffic for miles

and would not let edgy vehicles pass.

It pushed back through me singing half-truths I was not ready for

- 'you have hands like clamped cars

and they have not yet learned to listen'

the syllables sounded like symbols and I was afraid

to admit it, but I was on the transport to a nuclear war

with myself and we could not find enough white flags

to shove between my ribcage, only foul words

and realisations that I wanted to pluck out

and hide in wheelbarrows, but could not.