Facing the fear

hijacked amygdala

I don’t want to lie to you but I sure wish I could start lying to myself. Tell a different story of me, one that sits less altered in her chair, skewed by the forks laid to eat in tarmac

Truth doesn’t sit well at 2am, when the specter and the sickle crescent with the moon, to chime their heady blend of ‘what if’s’ and disturbance cavorting against imagination

I think of the quiet Christmas eve house, Tom and Jerry fooling about, seems I’ve been living long, if memory can stretch the length of night, without curling back upon itself

you’re there of course, shy and bold and beautiful

and out of the corner of my eye, I see the young me, her nylon night-dress and untrimmed straggly hair

Penguin looks with his sad eyes, Teddy tries not to cry, as knots in the wardrobe come alive, menacing faces, terror…

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9 thoughts on “Facing the fear

    1. You are so very lovely to say so. I have ‘known’ you since I first began on WP and whenever I see your symbol on WP come up I immediately read what you have written first – this is because you are the night poet whom I first read and felt a sympathy with – for your insights in this world are always spot-on

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