Nothing doing 

I found ten ways of doing nothing. It was the eleventh that did me in.


Love Is

Too many exes,

just one love.

It’s real,

a tad surreal.

I suspect a plot.

Eyes tuned in,

searching for cues.

They seem amiss.

Should I give up?

Give in?

Perhaps it’s true.

Perhaps all that’s said of love is true.

I am no pretty flower.

My petals are bruised.


This feeling,

it’s in full bloom.

Nature’s startling hand.




In disbelief,

I think,

“believer I”.

My toxic lover

Inside bins and closets,

I searched for a tiny bit of you.

Through burnt lips,

I waited for your kiss.

My breath had your name.

Your scent branded me.

My toxic lover.


You gave me hope,

you gave me courage.

You clouded me

in your protective spell,

gripped my hand

and promised to never let go.


You came with a price.

I paid each one.

You made me an outcast,

I thought I was a rebel.

You tired me out,

I sought more of you.

You taught me how to lie,

I figured others’ didn’t deserve the truth.


You held me,

till the I that was me,

was mine no more.

Yet something remained.

A memory perhaps,

of a woman free.


I gave you up,

you stalked my nights.

Uncertain and strength gone,

I held my lonely ground.

At last,

you got bored,

and took to another more eager still.


That day,

I befriended life.


(Written in admiration of all the people who kick their nicotine habit. As one friend of mine puts it, letting go of smoking is like giving up the love affair of your life!)