Steam

You were born
I’m thankful for that
Each time I glance over
The way the muscles
On your face flex
Beaming, like sunlight
Happy, in-between flutters
When a shortness of breath
Can’t keep up with the pace of my heart
It’s good to see your skin
Hasn’t aged a day
I gently fold over each crease
Softly pressing down
Sizzling steam
Pours out
The words nearly came out too
This year
Greetings of health
Wellness, and long life
Caught in a coughing fit
They escaped from my throat
Under my breath
But no matter
There’s always next year
When your face will be clean
Ready to wear
Ironed and steamed

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Steam

Habit

Should we meet face to face
Not screen to screen or
Keyboard to keyboard
Uncertainty in the eye of the sender
Picking out an imperfect mark
At thirty-five pixelated paces
Looking for an excuse
To avoid changing my routine
Swiping left for melancholy
But feeling justified in rejection.
Even if she is worth it
One day her face will sag
Wrinkles weather my vanity
With an exasperated demeanour
I’m tiresome, an old git
Never staring into a mirror
For fear of what it might reflect
I can only imagine the face
I used to wear at twenty-five
Wasn’t much of a groomer
Bad habits never scrubbed off
The grime from my pores
Easier to be cynical than dress
Appropriately for the occasion
She holds her drink like she was
Taught to be courteous
This love, a poisoned wine
I think I muttered it forcefully
Enough for her to leave
I’m rational and sober
Drinking tap water
Overgrown strands of hair
Hide the crocodile tears
The bottled up emotion
Slipping through the small
Gaps in between my teeth.
A small submissive ape
Philosophising about being
Misunderstood, when all
I wanted was what I had anyway

 

 

 

Habit