Thursday, 23 March 2023

Bus stop

 


Standing at the looming bus stop,

the sign hanging over me

like a guillotine about to drop.

Slowly dreading walking away

from what I was thinking.

Already starting

to miss the feeling.

Am I sinking.

I don’t know

if leaving is right

but I know I'd end up

regretting

staying the night.

 

You can't place a lid

on exposed thoughts,

they are out,

floating

caught in the urgent current

of the wind.

Trapping what remains,

and blending it in.

A lid

won't stop the rest

from flying away.

You can't stem the flow

or dam the pain,

where rivers of hurt

choose to go.

Returning to the scene

won't change

the way things used to be.

Won't transform the hurt

into happy memories.

 

A stone statue,

staring absently

into the gloom.

If I don’t move soon,

I'll grow roots.

Here the bus stop still looms,

watching my thoughts

rushing through.

I'm thinking in abstracts,

just to distract my mind

from memories of you.

 

The mind doesn’t keep things simple

It sometimes slips and tumbles a bit.

It never sits still when I want,

it just flows from thought

to unfinished thought.

Caught in the headlights

as the bus creeps in.

I start to see the light,

blinding with insight.

I realise,

I left

because

it wasn't feeling right.

 

So, if you think

I'm on the edge of breaking

I'm not so fragile.

My heart is stitched up tight.

My soul has walked through darkness

and strolled in the light.

I'm not gonna fall.

My head is held high,

I step on the bus

and watch as night has arrived.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

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Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle

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