Rushing

I wrote this in 2009, shortly after my ex ran off with a diminutive Liverpudlian

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rushing

 

I’m rushing headlong into anything.

Like a bled bull, with seconds to live.

 

I race about

caffeinated up to the hilt.

firing glances at anyone who looks as though

they might, just might give me what I crave.

 

Some days it’s a rib-cracking hug

when hair, scent and skin mingle

and no one knows when to stop

 

On other days it’s talk.

Inane banter about the price of cheese

or yet another pound shop.

 

Today it was a smile

shot from a pram

straight into the solar plexus.

Better than any CPR

Or mouth to mouth

 

I smiled back as best I could

but it landed short of the target

and was lost forever in mums frown