By Lucy Meynell
He calls out I’m not paying that!
I hear my usual reply What is it?
No change, four wheels, now a classic frustratingly priced out of reach.
I had two of those! follows.
I feel different to the old days every time he remarks, a voice within says What’s the point?
Or it plagues my shame for my hopeless mood with a momentary
Get it for him if it makes him happy.
He doesn’t know why he looks anymore.
Living together knowing nothing of how he feels except for body effects and sudden statements I can’t leave you with all this to sort out.
Clinging to work or eating to escape the tearing fear in me that sends draining silent thoughts drilling deep.
Energy to contemplate being with others evaporates.
They start their cheery chat expecting reciprocal what exactly?
I feel my heavy silence around their words.
My eventual voice polite or startlingly honest commences a real account of my mind.
Sweet sympathy or silence nothing soothes my dislike of listening to my trailing words.
Death will come and the pain of watching will demand.
Being neither brave nor strong.