No idea

A woman I used to work with walked past my flat today.
The last time we spoke I lived miles away.
Her strides were purposeful
but her shoulders looked relaxed.
She had no idea I was in my too-small dining chair
looking out the window through the purple tree.
She had no idea my bathroom has a little bin
stuffed with poo-filled nappies.
She had no idea I’ve invented songs for the bath.
She had no idea I was eating fried eggs.
She had no idea this morning was the first time
in a year my fingers wanted to hurt my skin.
She had no idea I didn’t let them because of a hand
on my shoulder asking me to be kind to myself.
She had no idea I live with a magician.
She had no idea I really liked her purple running shoes.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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