Sometimes I just want to be quiet.
Turn off the music, turn out the lights
and just be quiet.
Sit alone, my hair let down
bare ear lobes , no bra, no rings, no socks, in my pajamas just sitting there.
In my room, draw the curtains
switches off, phone silent
mouth closed, reflections gone and sit there.
Lastly, my eyes,
shut them closed with myself inside.
There in the quiet, I look around
pick up pieces of my pride off the floor
carefully put them back together and place it whole
up in the award cabinet.
I dust off months old dishonesty
sweep it into a black plastic bag ready for a binning.
kneel down, sponge, soap and bucket scrubbing out
muddy foot marks on my carpet.
Sitting still and decaying
forgotten and lousy in the corner, my tree of love.
I tend to her delicate branches, brush off her yellowing leaves,
snip off her dried fruit, prim her so
of all what is left are her good sides, remnants of them.
In the quiet, I speak to her,
a list of promises, write them down and
pin it up high on the fridge.
When all is done in the quiet
I open the windows and let the sun in
I get back to work.