Little Adult
In the café with the canvas paintings
hanging off the wall;
In the seat at the back of the cinema,
the furthest from them all.
At the table in the corner
that feels the most enclosed,
is the girl who no-one’s watching,
who feels the most exposed.
She’s the girl whose hands are always cold
whose grip you’ll never shake;
She’s the daughter with the honest words
you still refuse to take.
In the family we’ve thrown away
but will not disappear,
she’s the girl who’s always talking,
who no one else can hear.
In the bathroom with the mouldy tiles
clinging to the wall,
she watches as the dust builds up,
she waits for it to fall.
In the kitchen with the weighing scales
she cannot check too much,
is the girl who takes on everything
but never has enough.
Burnouts
1) Morning Sickness
This is the kind of hunger
you only get from too much
caffeine. A chemical after taste,
stomach cramps, dry mouth,
headache; a sudden swell
of nausea.
Water knocks against the pipes
as the sun warms the sweat
on my neck and the dew
on the lawn. A blue-grey mist rises
into the pink sky.
I can feed the emptiness once
my hands have stopped shaking.
2: Good Enough
A vacuum cleaner grasping at its suction.
Unanswered ring tones and email alerts.
A kettle poured on the brink of boiling.
Un-flushed toilets and unwashed hands.
Pages and pages leafed through a book.
Candles quivering and incense unfurling.
Silence inflating and calling good night.
My pulse ground down to the zero of nought.
I Gave You
Everything I ever wrote
for you, or about you;
the good, the bad
and the irrelevant.
You sent it back unopened.
I gave you
Narcissistic supply;
permission to exploit and abuse;
an excuse to continue- oblivious-
on your journey of denial.
You took me for granted.
I gave you
The benefit of the doubt;
protection and defence;
a sense of justification
for your beliefs.
You have to be right.
Copyright © 2017 Sarah Askew
In the café with the canvas paintings
hanging off the wall;
In the seat at the back of the cinema,
the furthest from them all.
At the table in the corner
that feels the most enclosed,
is the girl who no-one’s watching,
who feels the most exposed.
She’s the girl whose hands are always cold
whose grip you’ll never shake;
She’s the daughter with the honest words
you still refuse to take.
In the family we’ve thrown away
but will not disappear,
she’s the girl who’s always talking,
who no one else can hear.
In the bathroom with the mouldy tiles
clinging to the wall,
she watches as the dust builds up,
she waits for it to fall.
In the kitchen with the weighing scales
she cannot check too much,
is the girl who takes on everything
but never has enough.
Burnouts
1) Morning Sickness
This is the kind of hunger
you only get from too much
caffeine. A chemical after taste,
stomach cramps, dry mouth,
headache; a sudden swell
of nausea.
Water knocks against the pipes
as the sun warms the sweat
on my neck and the dew
on the lawn. A blue-grey mist rises
into the pink sky.
I can feed the emptiness once
my hands have stopped shaking.
2: Good Enough
A vacuum cleaner grasping at its suction.
Unanswered ring tones and email alerts.
A kettle poured on the brink of boiling.
Un-flushed toilets and unwashed hands.
Pages and pages leafed through a book.
Candles quivering and incense unfurling.
Silence inflating and calling good night.
My pulse ground down to the zero of nought.
I Gave You
Everything I ever wrote
for you, or about you;
the good, the bad
and the irrelevant.
You sent it back unopened.
I gave you
Narcissistic supply;
permission to exploit and abuse;
an excuse to continue- oblivious-
on your journey of denial.
You took me for granted.
I gave you
The benefit of the doubt;
protection and defence;
a sense of justification
for your beliefs.
You have to be right.
Copyright © 2017 Sarah Askew