Poetry

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link

There was a lock around my heart,

chains dragging behind me, longer than Jacob Marley’s.

I thought I’d have them forever,

but it turned out that words are a great corrosive,

eating into the toughest metals.

They didn’t come from me, I was too much

on the inside, struck dumb by expectations and resigned attitudes.

They came from you, from a single offer you made

of trying to help me solve a puzzle.

Neither of us realised the puzzle

was ourselves.

Poetry

Unsaid

You’ve got my back; your firm hands grip my shoulders

as I lean into you and filter the weight of the day

from my limbs to yours. Not all of it,

an even distribution so we can both still stand.

With a smile and a nod, we walk with our arms linked

and our steps synchronised, enjoying the bond

that was always a potential and has now flowered.

Words go unsaid because vocalising our thoughts

isn’t necessary — they’re in the twitch of our fingers,

the skip or slump of our feet

and the spark in both of our eyes.