"bad romance" and "the pinch" by Rebekah Crilly

Bad romance

Did she seduce me or did I use her

it was hard to say in the throes of our romance

to blame her would be unfair

after all I picked her from the shelf

{and not just once}

but what did she expect

whispering French words

that tasted of long summer evenings

beguiling me with foreign scents

and full-bodied promises

but I was no innocent

it was all on my terms

from my own amusement

or worse

in self-pity

and so we’d continue around in senseless circles

blaming each other

Vino and I

The pinch

I sat on my bed

eating toast and drinking tea

like a Lord

I scrolled freely and breathed deeply

but there was a pinch – you might call it

that thing that doesn’t allow you to be

to relax

you see we mothers need time

to process

recalibrate

circle back on all our wrongdoings

some call it self-care

others survival

but that pinch

it stings and squeezes

whispers “don’t leave us”

{I almost wondered if they carried a voodoo doll of me to their grandmother’s

and poked me so I couldn’t forget}

that pinch is the price

it is needing time to eat toast and drink tea

but missing them sorely as soon as they leave

An aspiring poet from Northern Ireland who dreams of being paid to write poetry from the comfort of her bed. Thankfully, though unpaid, she derives so much comfort from poetry that even if she is never published, she feels a little warmer inside. Mum of two, writing on a variety of subject matters and in a variety of forms, depending on the mood of the day.