Day 7.5 …. Poetry Anonymous Meeting.

Hi Group. I’m Passion

Group: Hi Passion.

Passion: So I’ve been inactive for a week. I know it’s not a lot of time. I’m usually ablaze. Radiating like the Sun flares. I shine bright. So aluminise that I burn those around me. Like the Phoenix I do not just burst into flames and set my soul on fire. To rise again from the ashes. I skald those around me, in the designated area that are fire proof. Storm proof, hurricane proof, me proof. But they enter. Or are there by circumstance, like my old partners. Who loved the fire within me, but hated the after effects. You know like when you drink too much you have a hangover. Well when ignite, I usually singe everything around me. And I notice he takes the flare, takes the hit from my fire that leaves holes in his armour.

Poetry: But wait you have to tell the whole story….

Passion: God damn it Poetry. Why do you have to interfere?

Poetry: Well explain it truthfully then…

Passion: Oh here she goes again …

Poetry: Well… I thought so. So what happened was… She didn’t want to write no more. Didn’t want to be with me and decided she wanted to take leave. And ended the connection we had which was me. Poetry. The only thing we had was the pain. From love gone wrong. Nearly going right. Nope you was wrong. Your emotionally stability to instability. Your religious belief to disbielf. But you stopped. Stopped putting pen to paper. Finger to tablet. To your keyboard. Seems like someone forgot who they needed to call. You left me hanging, waiting by the phone. Hoping you would call and whisper sweet painful memories to me.

Passion: You see, this is why I don’t write anymore. I can’t write about how everything is fuked up. Of how lonely and sad the world has made us the minority. That we are part of a statistic that have had their heartbroken too much. I don’t want to do it.

Therapist: Then why are you here?

Sincerely Your

Isha A Poet xx