Home, alone

You shouldn’t feel lonely in church

But I do.

There, I said it.

What you can’t say

shouldn’t say

surrounded by all the smiles

of shiny white clean

wealthy Clapham teeth

how can you be alone?

With those who have tried

to strike up winsome conversation

and bring you into the fold?

I want to say

I’m sorry

I’m sure it’s not just them

but is it really just me?

Do I exude my mood

does my desperation for you

occlude

the truth that at times, I am

confident and competent and really,

truly content with who I am

and how life goes.

I believe –

no, I know

that I am more than I appear here

more than my awkward

pauses and that all this

shall pass in time

but it still breaks my heart

that in the one place

I should call home

today I feel like a stranger.

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Freedom of Information

Sometimes

It is just time

to

let the cat out of the box

whether to bury it

or let it breathe.

Make or break

they say

Sink or swim.

Never just slightly sever

or awkwardly float away.

That’s the real fear here:

Regret.

It’s

anticlimactic

Living now on the outside

with my secret no longer caged in.

I feel relief from my shame

But my heart’s cell feels strangely bare

since I freed it.

Empty nest syndrome

I suppose.

So,

where to next?

Not helpful

You asked me to tell you

What’s not helpful:

*

Your eyes

Your smile

Your teeth

Your brow

The utterly adorable

way you frown

The way you waggle your hands in vain

Describing something you can’t explain

Your hair-sweeping shakes and stroking gestures

Your beautiful woodland checked shirt textures.

How you laugh, the way you smell

And really that’s only your outer shell.

*

So, you know, basically everything.

Can you stop being you, please?

That would be helpful.