.

 You ask me what I had for dinner, 

but I have nothing to say. 

So I smile and talk about this book

 I recently read. 

Your voice is

soft as a bird's song

and warm as a cup of tea.

You wish me luck and tell me I matter, 

calling me your best friend. 

You are a face less fish

 looking at me from the bottom while I cry my pretty tears in pain.

I don't tell you 

How sleeping pills float on my tongue, 

How I am painting my fences, 

How I gifted myself grape coloured bruises on my birthday, 

How I burned my throat swallowing a poem I wanted to write,

How the baby blue carpet in my aunts house drained in red, 

How broad is the grey sky,

How cruel is the summer for a hummingbird without wings,

How I finished an epitaph for personal use, 

How the pink kisses turned to beautiful lies, 

How my delicate parts quake in the wind,

How colour blind am turning day by day.

Instead I say am busy and go, a honey drenched cake ignored. 

My sadness is thin as my veins, 

May be that's why you can't see it.

My sadness is ever present as my veins, 

May be that's why I can't unsee it.

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