Day 3 – & the days run away like horses over the hills

Some things, you never quite get over.
You think you have, but you remain haunted.


bad friday

all week it’s been hiding
round the corner
of my tiptoeing mind

& behind the walls
of my fragile  carefully fabricated
homeshell  every day

building like a thunderstorm
of bricks & grey anvils
ready to rain hell

every year grief floats between
the dark bloody day of the tomb
& the numerical reality

only once in 25 years (2001)
have the anniversaries coincided
even so  my sadness was not halved

the next won’t be till 2063
so i’ll split my weeping over
two different dates for years

is it any wonder
on days like these  i spend all night
sleeping on top of myself


mage by pooky125

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