The bottom of the washing basket

conn mini1

I don’t know why you make me feel so good.

When I see you

I feel like a million dollars.

I feel like I could do anything.

Scale any problem.

Just name it

And I’ll be all over it like a rash!

When I look at you

My heart feels fuller.

Lighter.

Invincible even!

I think;

“Get in!”

“Let’s av it!”

“Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough!”

I don’t know how you do it.

Nothing else gives me so much power.

So much fire in my belly!

I’d work every day

For just one glimpse of you.

You are my drug.

My elusive high!

Sometimes you are my saviour.

No one else can understand us.

They see how quickly love turns to hate,  I suppose.

And I do hate you!

I hate your abundance.

I hate your hold on my life.

I hate your banality.

Your selfish insistence on my time.

But god,  when I see you!

You make me feel fucking great!

One thought on “The bottom of the washing basket

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