This is not Freudian defence
I refuse to believe that you are really gone. I'm still waiting for you to come through the front door, I'm still sat waiting on the steps like a child tucked in on themselves as they wait for daddy to come home. I'm still expecting you to be sat snoring on the sofa when I go in to turn the tv off at night. I'm still expecting you to pull up in your car any second now. I'm still waiting for you to jump out and yell 'surprise'. This is not denial or repression, this is disbelief. I am adamant that you are not gone.
YOU ARE READING
Forget The World
PoetryForget the world, Forget the people. Focus on me, Focus on you. Smile. A documentation of my deteriorating mental heath and stability through words.
