Aren’t You Better Yet?
Silence sucks fabricated friendships from my veins
whilst dust gathers upon undisturbed floorboards.
Sympathy is played like a symphony,
a broken body longing for a delicate touch.
The whole world is a stage,
my part hidden behind pain’s curtain.
Get well soon messages for the injured performer
dry up as empathy evaporates.
The world is far more interesting when we’re not thinking about you.
Not so much a dirty secret,
but a detox to secrete the dirt.
Abandon all hope ye who enter here.
That’s why I’m alone.
Better the devil you no longer know.
You need to get out more
A light hovers in my dreams
Singularity, a speck of hope as I imagine restitution
Have I always been this way?
I mustn’t get carried away
Who knows the obstacles ready to devour my world?
Yet shimmers of purloined purpose
Catch my breath, inviting snatches of what ifs
Do you remember me before?
Autumn sun touches apprehensive cheeks
Careful not to fracture this flesh reliquary
How can it be that I am loved?
We sit, perhaps only a moment
As breeze and breath whisper delight
You laugh at the simplicity of wonder
And I weep with joy because of how you see me
When did our lives spin towards another path?
Perhaps only today
But what else do we have?
Rev Joe Haward is an author, poet, and heretic. His work can be found in a variety of places where he writes horror, noir, and transgressive fiction. He has won the Prize for Short Story Telling and been nominated for The Pushcart Prize. His debut poetry collection, Heresy (Uncle B. Publications) will drop in 2022. Find at joehaward.co.uk.