There’s poems that sit
Alone in my notes
Their loneliness
A reminder that sometimes it’s okay
To not tell everyone everything
I can keep secrets of my own
Sat Alone
They tell a story
Of my darkest moments
The ones I’m not sure
Wether to share would be worse
When I’ve written for myself
Words on a page
To help my busy brain
Extract the feelings
Make sense of them
Doesn’t mean anyone else needs to see them
They are mine
And mine alone
I am incredibly sad
That’s it
That’s the story
I’m sad
So sad I feel I might cry
In fact I probably will
I think I’ve messed up
But not for me
I think I’ve messed you up
By leaving
Doing the best thing for me
Might just have been the worst for you
I never wanted to hurt you
Never ever
And to think I’ve made you sad
Hurts me more
Than leaving ever did
There’s a mood
I can’t quite put into words
It’s the drive home
In the pouring rain
Beating the windows
But they’re still open a crack
To let the cool air in
After my shift
Twice as long as an office day
Hotter than summer
Stuck on the cook line
Of the kitchen
I’m no chef
Not meant to be here
But it comes with the job
Music blaring
Trying to block out the ringing
Of the bar music in my ears
As I carry the tone of the night
Home with me
Too much on
And not enough time
I can’t do everything
Not all of its mine
I need some help
Time and space
Catch playing catch up
With everything
That I face
I’m so worried about going
Diving deep into this great unknown
Something I’ve done before
But not like this
Never like this
I’m there to work
Not just for the jolly
Or to see the sights
Exciting though it would be
Somewhere I’ve not been
People I haven’t yet known
Something new
Something unknown
I’m crying in the car again
Tears rolling down my face again
Sadness creeping over me
Again
Not sad about any particular thing
Just the collective sadness
Of my existence at the moment
Overwhelming
Seeping out
Crawling down my face
In these times I’m on my own
Sat in the solitude
Of my commute
I can’t speed this bit up
Standing on the platform
Waiting for the train
That’s already here
To shut it’s doors and move on
To let in the next one
Let me on
Let me hurry home
For my busy schedule
The cars are iced
As I pull into our cul de sac
If I fell asleep right this second
I’d get 6.5 hours of sleep
Met on each side
By shifts over double that
It’s a long slog
This stretch
Between days off
To make it fair
On everyone else
I like the drive home
The fast road route
Empty late at night
On my own by the time I finish
Solitary but pretty
Fast
Even at rush hour
Less tedious
Than the shorter alternative
Stopping every 10 meters
For another set of traffic lights
A clear run home
A home run
Easy driving
I especially like it at the moment
They’ve closed the fast road
Through the bay
And to my junction
But no further
You can’t reach the motorway
Passing the pretty waterfront houses
And the urban beauty of the road works
Then filtered off
Into the home stretch
No other destination available
Just home
You can’t get anywhere else
On this road for the time being
So it becomes mine
All mine
For my lovely drive home
I’m blowing bubbles
In the surface of the bath
Ripples reflected on the white basin floor
Twisting myself
To fit where I don’t quite
Trying to just be
Exist in the moment
This is the bit I’m really bad at
Switching off
And forgetting
Watching the waves in the water
I created
Rhiannon Writes 
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