And the Pain

It’s worse at night, I find,
As if my body somehow
Strips itself of armour,
Slips “she manages so well”
Onto a pink fluffy hanger in the wardrobe
Pops “you’d never know”
On the bedside table
And tucks “I don’t know how she copes”
Under the bed
Next to the slippers

I’m talking about the pain
Of course
My constant companion for all these years
Reliable
Loyal
Maybe bit clingy

Officially, something po-faced like
Severe chronic pain
Bracket traumatic injury
Close bracket

Unofficially, Portsmouth Uni
November 1998
Mad night!
A long fall down hard stairs
After too many beers
And whiskeys
And vodkas
And maybe tequila slammers?
But honestly I was so hammered,
Absolutely trolleyed, mate,
Literally such a state
I don’t even remember the fall
Or the stairs
Or the pay phone at the bottom
Or the drama
Or the mayhem
Or phoning my mum at 3am…

And it would probably be a funny story
If it had a different end

Because it’s been nearly thirty years
And I still weep in the night
As my defences go down
And meticulously buried thoughts
Punch their way up and up and up
And my head floods with
Regret
Remorse
Self-recrimination
And missed chances
And shelved dreams
And lost years
And the pain
And the pain
And the pain

Then, finally, morning
A sleepy shuffle next to me
From the boy-to-man
Who was there then and is still here now.
A bleary eyed pillow kiss
A doorway nod from our eldest
A warm cuddle from our youngest
A waggy, furry flomp from the dog
Radio
Giggles
Coffee wafts
Toast pops

Morning joy

I stretch
Slide my feet into my slippers
And meet another day.