I can see you down there. You are wafting past as I breathe in the clouds. I’d like to say, but at the same time I don’t want to hurt your wafting grace.
When I think of you it hurts, when I see you in dusty lungs it heaves and I run scared.
If I dream that is the worst, you are there and then leave before settling me down to sweet tea and sour departures.
I’ve had a couple of days ‘break’ from stuff I was supposed to be doing – my symptoms were just getting too much for me to carry on and as anyone who’s had MH problems or chronic illnesses like CFS, the fear of my body and mind collapsing into relapse was a strong motivator to take a breather.
I’m making jewellery after doing a course on it and on my better days I’m photographing and selling some. I don’t pay attention to if I’m making profit, I doubt it, but that’s not why we do these things. These distractions of colour and length and threading and weaving.