Being Two

Words are forming slowly
yet tumble quickly from her mouth.
I remember being two myself.

How was it I understood all
they were saying
but could never make myself heard?

Each scene was bewilderment β€”
every stanza failed.
I recall the outrage even now.

To sit at the window alone
was solace β€”
a silent slipping into
the hum of the world.

Copyright Simon Heathcote



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Simon Heathcote

Psychotherapist writing on the human journey for some; irreverently for others; and poetry for myself; former newspaper editor.