There are some 
but not many 
of which I 
comfortably slide into 
like an old
pair of shoes 
that just fit 
having walked miles 
along with me 
or a sweater 
that’s kept chill
away at bay
at arms length 
tattered and frayed 
maybe too big 
a wooly friend 
which to wallow 
these friends that
might not talk 
often do recall 
life’s greatest adventures 

Everything that 
has happened 
to me 
was meant 
to happen 
to me 
therefore I 
hold no 
remorse regret
or regard
to any 
of it

I’m like barbed wire 
I come with hooks
but not to snare
or dissuade or to
even keep things away 
I’m not a trap
I’m just sitting here 
minding my own business 
it’s others it’s always 
others that venture close 
and then blame me 
and never ever them
for being the reason 
why they are disappointed 
if they can be 
then why can’t I

It’s in the quiet 
when I hear most
silence brings its time 
most things just wait 
and wait and wait 
often turning into nothing 
because nothing is better 
for most people getting 
whilst exciting proves dangerous 
everyone dreams few fulfill
why then do we 
carry around a bucket 
only to remain empty 

This feels
just as
frustrating as
when the 
meatball misses
the bib
and lands
on my
trousers what
good then 
is a
bib if
the meatball
does what 
it wants