They were wrong.
All those who claimed
that love would
seek me out
I lived no bright lit moments.
No great days.
She went unfound.
The longed-for one.
I searched on.
Through painful years
just shun desires.
Or lock them from
Then sit here
for over two decades.
It’s getting late.
I need to sleep:
So reach, and close
Once truth recedes
Following an internal haemorrhage (melaena) in January:
I surmounted anxiety, and arranged a gastroscopy.
After my refusing sedation, hospital nurses warned me patients retch when the long tube (containing a camera) is pushed down their throat.
But I surprised them, by enduring the whole procedure silently.
(It feels nice, as a sad old poet, to occasionally master ones oversensitivity.)
Fasting (18 hours without food) made things tougher.
Yet going six hours on zero liquids was worse.
Anyway, I’m glad that’s done, now. 🙂
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Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it?
Thanks for reading.
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