Deflated

 

Some days

you just wake

defeated,

thoughts deflating

as they squeal through the gloom

like balloons blown up

then released with no knot

trapping in the air.

 

You just look at the grey

and it glares back,

like staring into the void

and just seeing

the mirror image of you.

 

On days like this its

easier to collapse into a heap,

surrounded by the puddles

of tears you weep,

or dissolve yourself into a fitful sleep

like instant coffee on a spoon

whisked into a whirlpool

of gloomy brown sludge.

 

And the thoughts just won’t budge.

You listen to them circling.

Vultures screeching for a feast,

and you, with a sign hanging around

your neck, saying 'all you can eat.'

 

Some days you just

can’t face the mirror,

the look of winter

deep inside your eyes.

The look of loss

at something that hasn't died,

but has evaporated away

into a stormy sky.

As you know some dreams

won’t ever come true,

when sometimes the magic

casts itself over a different view.

 

So, on days like this

it’s easier to say goodnight,

wave farewell to the day

and stay in the dark,

away from any light,

as you know that

your stains pollute

the brightness

of those all around,

and you close your eyes

wishing to the sky,

for the next day

to be clearer with a more

peaceful smile.