This poem explores ideas about the cloak we wear around our emotions. The different tactics and tendencies which I recognise in myself and those around me. I find it a useful lens to decipher how I am hiding myself from myself, and highlighting the movement of my mind into judgement of others.

I really enjoy the first few verses, the last verse, and certainly the last line is moving into another idea… Thus unfinished!

I know we all have bruises,

Hidden tender spots.

Purple, Black & Blue.

Some ‘the heart puller’.

Like to poke a bruise, and feel the echo, 

Pull at splinters, 

With a half desire to purge,

Half fear of healed freedom.

Some pic, 

Absent minded, 

But persistent, 

Consistent.

Thrilled by new bloods revelation.

And a heart so part of the pain, 

It is a beacon in every room of their life.

So long abided never forgotten.

Then, there are ‘the evolvers’,

The carriers,

The swear blinded “this makes it different”

Dissecting heartbreak with affirmations and declarations.

Loves blood as warpaint,

And faces wet with tears.

Or, the ‘Pit finders’.

The “There is no help”ers,

The desolationists,

Wallows greased with cankers never healed.

Stooped and somewhat ignorant to the world.

There are the ‘talkers’ and the ‘worker-outers’.

Or the deep insiders.

With pain, like hidden gems.

Touched rarely and with revorance,

Like poems kept in between pages of a well bound book.

(25th April ‘15)