games of subtext

The games of subtext,

the precise writing of a message.

The whole charade seems way too complex.

Out of touch I am with not being honest and open;

saying it for how it is.

The analysis of their intent,

the disappointment at their absence.

The overwhelming feeling that you are missing out,

feeling completely inadequate for their attention or concern.

Craving compassion and conversation -

you compromise your standards and expectations,

settling for a pathetic excuse or reason.

Despite the shield you wear,

the disappointment seeps through and you find yourself asking

why you're not good enough -

not worthy of their affection.

You're not that bad... are you?

The subtext should be erased,

the message left as is.

If they don't like it,

they're not worth it.

I must make these words my shield...

stop playing the game.

the issue of independence

the freedom of independence misleading,

heading me down a path of confusion.

Once a patient, compromising person,

now a leader of my own world -

irrespective of those around me.

thinking for oneself and making plans unknown,

now a standard ritual in my daily life.

This... liberation from responsibility -

although a strength,

creates a certain amount of selfishness.

The art of balancing both now in the foreground of my mind.

yearly wisdom

The street happening around me,

the people breathing the beat.

I sit on the re-known street, 5th avenue;

the class that it brings dissipated in the morning rush hour.

Another year etches its life on my face,

yet I feel strangely calm?

Another city makes you feel a sense of accomplishment -

I am somewhere doing something out of the ordinary.

Monotony is now a faded memory.

The consistency of loved one's around me is turbulent,

and I crave their company most minutes of the day.

And although my career and finances has come to a steady halt,

I am not particularly phased by that.

My yearly goal,

my mission last year was just to be.

Let life unfold and be amazed by it all.

Stop planning and worrying my life away.

So the contrast of the city,

to my calm 'new age' brings a small smile to my face.

New York excites me,

re-energises me to just keep going.

Let it happen.

Anything you want is within reach,

you just need to laugh at the process.

encounter

His white suit a stark contrast to the city grime,

his bow tie, pressed and sitting tortly.

His fragile and nervous frame no competition for the hostility of the people around him.

He holds the paper like a precious book,

and although full of trivial facts,

a ritual read I am sure he carries out each day.

The cattle cart arrives swiftly and he glares at it with dread;

hovering like an anxious toddler over a first step.

He slowly approaches the carriage and takes one step towards his destination. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the heat and stench that he is confronted with.

The city has changed, but this man has not.

His grace and class clear from a far,

his age evident from the curly white eye brows and wrinkled cheeks.

His love of the buzz not deterring him from the grizzly transport.

This gingerly man is someones grandfather,

and puts my demeanour to shame.

I close my eyes and ignore the heat and stench that surrounds me.

I just don't think I look half as composed as this man standing beside me.

The stop approaches and his eyes meet mine.

I smile at his crumpled face,

and he nods his head towards me as I leave the carriage.

What a wonderful encounter with a true London gentlemen.

Revealing

I close my eyes and let out a sigh.

It always makes me feel so much better.

The afternoon sun is flickering in my eyes through the wispy trees;

the breeze calms my heart and cools my temper.

The politics of the day exhaust me and make me age.

People, once believed to be friends, deceive me.

A skill I once had long forgotten.

My uplifting teaching energy now stern and tough,

crosser than I knew I could be.

They respond to the witch in me, the one I find more consuming.

They take advantage of you because you are you -

and think that it is nothing.

It's a tough city - man up.

I spend the afternoon, literally, on retail therapy.

What a glorious feeling it is to spend money you don't really have.

I do feel better, however, so mission accomplished.

I still sit here now though, and wonder at the cruelty of people.

In one swift afternoon, loyalty changes and they have moved on.

I think I am being punished because I am .... passionate?

I wait anxiously for the wine to chill, and remind myself why I am here.

Eye on the goal.

Rely only on yourself.

Laugh at the stupidity of others.

Breathe and move on.

bubble of flutters

The smile on my face is endless,

seemingly unable to be wiped off.

I sit in disbelief, still feeling euphoric - is it some sort of dream?

I expect them to change their mind,

for their vision to be different.

But the phone sits silently in front of me,

showing no signs of life.

I showed up to the initial thing,

excited to be involved in the process.

The call back; unexpected and thrilling.

The shortlist - did I hear it correctly?

The feature of the commercial,

are they crazy?

The wardrobe fitting -

did you say they were a size 8?

The elated giggle and chatter to my agent is the only call that comes through.

' I had a good feeling about you' he reassures me,

'they clearly see it too'.

They want... me.

I fit the part.

What a buzz.

For the first time in a long time,

I am speechless.

I let the bubble of flutters in my chest take over,

and just enjoy.

sunken

Her clothes dangle loosely around her frame,

cheeks sunken into a hollow.

Her almost translucent skin; tired and showing her inaccurate age.

She walks determined, unfazed by the early hour that it is.

She must maintain the pace.

Her brittle bones resemble a small child,

her eyes saddened and lost.

The thoughts plague her head and she brushes them aside.

She is in control.

She knows what she is doing.

I march ahead, womanly & curvaceous in my stride.

Despite my daggy attire,

my fondness of food is evident.

My eyes are alight with excitement,

relieved to have the morning to myself.

I stop and take a moment in the sun

and see the young girl again.

The runners usual greeting goes amiss with her,

she is so focused on the prize.

She is half the size of me,

yet powering strong.

For fitness and health I hope.

But the look in her eyes tells me otherwise.

She needs no help from her family.

She is in control of her mind.

The thoughts that plague her are her own.

And they are telling her that she is not good enough.