At home alone on a Saturday night
Eating yoghurt made for children
I said no to someone’s invite
Someone else said no to mine
So I can be on my own
So I will be on my own again
I keep looking at my bank balance
hoping to prove I am worth something
but all my wealth is inherited
I was gifted several thousand pounds
bound in ribbons of self loathing
I tried to hand out flowers
in a hot wind
and every petal disintegrated:
all my worldly gifts
turned to ash in an instant
I am trying to be more like a snail
who, although soft in many places,
is not afraid
to eat a small green leaf, and while she’s at it
allow her face to glisten in the sun
All I can do is hope that Sunday
might be the day for it
That the leaves might be writing invites
to me
some time soon