anthology · charity · hope · inspirational · poem · short story

Towards the Sun – An Anthology for Chloe

From today you can purchase this charity anthology, Towards the Sun, featuring various authors and artists (including me)

Centring on the theme of HOPEPUNK, the short stories, poems, and artwork aim to be inspirational and, most of all, uplifting. Who doesn’t need some of that these days?

Proceeds from the sale of this book go towards Chloe Dean’s GoFundMe for her fight against cancer.

 

 

Get your copy here

Thank you for your support. Hope you enjoy the collection. 

As always, 

anxiety · brexit · depression · family · feelings · friendship · in limbo · poem

Tired of Being Invisible: A poem

You think you know me.

Because we’re family. From the same pool gene.

You ask me how I am without waiting for a reply,

then launch into a rant about how bad your day has been.

Why are your problems more important than mine?

From the four-inch screen, you see only my painted face.

You don’t see the tears on my pillow, or the angry clenched fists at my side.

Were I to show you the real me, you’d call me over-dramatic.

Then bombard me with ‘advice’ without asking why I’m in this state.

You think you know me.

Because we’re ‘blood’.

Since when did we become a one-way street?

Who gave you the right to offload your issues on me,

when you can’t be bothered to return the favour?

Why is your life more worthy than mine?

I stop listening, faze out and stare at my phone.

Why don’t you notice?

You think you know me.

Because we’re ‘close’.

Yet the distance between us cannot be measured in miles alone.

It’s as deep as the ocean, and as wide as the sky.

As fragile as the ice-caps, and as wild as the tempest.

I don’t know how to get back from this.

You don’t hear me anymore.

Do you even see me?

Or am I just a number on your speed-dial?

You think you know me.

Because we are kin. Bound like no others on this planet.

Yet you ignore the signs.

Don’t you wonder why I make excuses not to visit? Do you even care?

Are you really convinced by LOLs and smiley faces?

So convinced you daren’t probe further? Or too afraid to face the truth?

My lack of interest in your life stems from yours in mine.

In fact, you’re part of the problem now.

My reason to stay away.

You think you know me.

Because we’re related.

I’ll give it one last go.

Will you listen?

“You asked me how I am. Do you really want to know?” I ask, my voice raspy.

“Or was it some platitude, some attempt at polite behaviour?”

Your vacant stare speaks volumes.

“Is this another of your mood swings talking?” you say. Eventually.

You don’t like awkward silences, do you?

“I can’t do this now.”

You’re dismissing me? Again?

You have something better to do. Clearly. Your busy life has no time for me.

Nothing changes, does it?

You don’t know me at all.

I wonder whether you ever did.

I hang up.

No goodbye.

No see you later.

I’m so tired of all this.

Of trying to be heard.

Of failing to be heard.

Of being invisible.

As always,