kirstyes

My day started fighting an invisible foe
Then I fought to stay awake and failed
I battled piles of laundry and dishes
With help from machines I surged ahead
Until next Sunday when the war starts again.

Love Idol

He will be one:
Who’ll comb my hair
Wipe my tears
Hug me to halt
My shakes of
Anger, frustration and fear.
Sure we’ll fight
And his words may sting
But he’ll kiss them away
For ever and a day.

Now, how do I find him?

It begins with a tingle
then an irritating itch,
the pressure builds
and layers
brick
upon
brick
of force.
In some this is expelled
in one large gust of air,
but in me it comes in
tiny jets, just like the
puffs of air from the
glaucoma test machine.
My sneezes leave
me exhausted.