You said

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You said she was having an affair.

Did I?? I don’t remember..  .

Yes, about 10 minutes ago, you told me, you said she was seeing him.

Well I might have been wrong.

So? Is she or isn’t she?

Well I’m not sure now…..

Oh come on, I missed half of it…. John rang and I had to answer, then you went off on one about trains. And you tell me half a story.

Well it’s complicated.

Complicated? Oh you must know….

Do you think it’s going to rain later?

What? What’s that got to do with it? Just TELL me what is going on, please.

No, I can’t remember, sorry. Anyway it’s only a soap opera.

Oh for goodness sake!

Playing with writing a duolog. I didn’t want to describe the people talking or to add details of their landscape.

In my mind one is male and the other female  Could you tell which is which?

I didn’t want it to be clear at the start that they were talking about a TV programme so I left it until the end of the discussion to mention a soap opera. I don’t know if this sort of squabbling is anyone else’s experience.

Blah blah blah

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My head is spinning, I can’t think. Why? Because he keeps talking, on and on and onandonandonand……argh!

He keeps listing things, this and that and the other. ..more and more. Muttering, talking under his breath. It’s not a duolog, it’s a monolog. The pretence of listening  trying to turn a blind ear to it. Please shut up! I scream over and over in my head, my aching ears, every tv programme is spoken over , every speech or argument is submerged by the verbal spewing of the same things, same ideas ad nauseam.

I try not to say anything. I did not want to start an argument. I’m polite, patient, trying to be caring. It makes my mind bend, trying to placate whilst trying to hear my own thoughts.  Misery is close to love, partnered with it, shackled till bedtime brings blessed quiet.

Tinnitus waits when silence decends, whistling, high pitched, fracturing my mind even more, sometimes I switch on the radio, quiet words, only just audible either sooth, or I catch their meaning, and listen into sleep, leaning my thoughts into their soft pillow.

I know in the morning I will start again. I try and stay in the haven of quiet peace in the dawning of day’s, lingering in bed, hiding my thoughts under the duvet. Sometimes I want to escape, to talk to someone who will listen to Me, let Me be, let me be, let me be, my brain stumbles….

Selective hearing is treacherous, what did he say? What meaning did he put in that phrase?  My off switch is too strong now. Like listening to a weather forecast that I never fully hear, only noticing a storm is coming at the end, but not hearing where…

Got to sleep, but the talking mutter is still going on….. no rest for the wicked……

No freedom, till death do we, in sickness, for poorer….where did the positives go? Where is there solace. Why do we change. Why does despair outlast joy?

But there is some joy, as a bird starts to sing into the dawn, as rays of light shine through the window and warm me, I know that I will carry on, calm down, face the future. Buy some ear plugs!

What day would I go back to?

All the days in our lives,

Stretch out at first, then shrink,

Behind us, gone.

No rewind button for life,

No voicemail recording our every word.

Gone, long ago,  barely remembered. ..

What day would I go back to?

To hear parents voices again, and tell them

How much I loved them?

Or the first day at school, tell myself not to be so shy?

Trying to make perfume from rose petals as a child

Or older, wiser, learning to drive.

Time travel is a one way street, into the future.

If I could go back I would be pleased to meet you again.

Maybe visit a few less railways,

And see the sea a few more times.

Go back to holidays in Devon.

If I could go back I would say,

Don’t take that awful job,

Stay safe and well.

Don’t waste your life for a pay packet,

Let’s live and love.

 

Looking out

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The eye peeps out, looking into the street, one clear square of glass, the rest opaque, hiding the room beyond.

A glimpse of an eye, now gone. The rusting bars of the window still hold firm grip of the blackened glass. No splits or cracks, just that small patch where once there was..a blue eye? Almost missed, only glanced at.

Do I knock on the door next to the window? Or ignore it and walk by. The dilemma is not knowing which to choose. Who (or what ) is in there? It could be a homeless person, a drunk, a security guard. I am alone, walking down an old alley way. No, I dare not chance knocking, I don’t know what the outcome might be. I might come back in daylight. I leave the window and eye behind, walking quickly….

But steps are following me……..

Sky, trapped.

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Your sky is trapped up high,

Below the stars you spy

Cerulean blues,

Ultramarine hues.

Tiles and bricks embrace

a pale blue face,

Reflecting windows catch the rays

of sunlight dappling through leaves.

No clouds can dampen your topaz sight.

slow shading to darkest night.

Trapped blue, without rain,

tomorrow shine out again.