Nose exhalation.

It came this morning.

Needed.

I am struggling this week.

How my body has changed; how little we seem
to touch - unless alcohol lubricates us.
How much I am needed
yet go with my own needs unmet.
Reversion has settled in again.
Your working patterns- they make you seem..
selfish? callous?
Flirts in quiet messages are gone-
an one sided effort it feels.
a dreading of winter -
that bitter cold- I dread it.
I hate it.
The time of the hag, the crone.
A sleeping time.
A creature of the warmth, I feel as though
withered in the cold here.
Questions for together
can time be made?
do I still appear
to you
attractive? how unsettling a dream
can be.
A flabby gut
bloated belly.
Clothes don't fit.
What to do?
Little fingers
begging
screaming voices
toddler of two; small person of six.
When all I beg for is
time to myself; goes unheard.
All I want
is to lay abed
sleeping
ignoring.
A masturbatory finger
my only companion;
a brief burst of release in a field of tensions.
But the fingers come
a kiss on a bumped
knee
meals to make
wash to fold
ears to hear
his working life
that I understand so little of.
Bills unpaid
stacking, stacking.
What to do?

Fading light.

Summer fades-

Small.

Small noises
its 627 in the morning.
I can hear
a dog barking
He does that every time
he's out.
Birds are singing.
My coffee is lukewarm
Ideas run through
my head
Stories and possibilities
For a character
in a game
I devote
maybe too
much time to.
I think of you.
Our legs tangled
messy kisses
in bed.
I think of the slick-sticky penetration
our bodies joined
relaxing in to that languid
relief, of panting breath
 Hands grasping.
Maybe a nap.
I think of them;
their feet stamping
voices calling
Milk and toast
cereal and carrots.
Where will you go
today my loves?
The jungle?
the sea?
on the porch with
tiny plastic animals.
A bin of sand.
Lately
recently
You've explored
old noises.
Noises from a time passed.
The old flavours
a brief thrill
nostalgia.
'Far too frail'
indeed.

it has a name.

The rejection
has a reason.
a name
a cause.
Your fears are still there-
but it's not all you.
Confessions in the fading
light of summer.
You won't even name them
not here-
respectful.
Only..
Gentle words
of support
suggestions
for
assistance.
Small steps
small.

patpat.

When she runs
her feet hit the carpet with a satisfying
patpatpatpat sound.
Often she babbles
or maybe just a long
'Oooo!', or a screech.
Her arms might flail as she seeks
to balance herself.
She runs after her sister
or for an offered treat
a cookie
Or a coveted cheese slice.
But that little sound.
Bare feet on carpet.
patpatpatpat.
Always will I savor that
small noise, often lost to traffic
as we walk
over looked
when we do our dailies.
Patpatpatpat.

Passing the break.

There's no respite
as a parent.