I wear an old 45 for skin.
Side A is the surface you see;
White and pale under our winter's skies,
But much darker by September.
Side A does a fine job
Keeping my entrails in.
I like the harmony, beat and rhythm of it.

Side B of my skin is harlequin,
A melting *** of mosaic colours
You can't see,
But if you listen,
My lyric is a palette of hues.

Spent the last 5 years
Forgetting
To make a therapist appointment
Self diagnosed myself
A couple times over
Muted myself
With medication
And YouTube recommendations
I put off
Writing a love letter
To my best friend
Sigh
To what could have been

Still
I’m happy

Not all the time
Of course
But,
Enough.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.