Mild for the weather for this time of year

outside, standing and chatting and laughing,

standing close and I’m trapped by the wall

and I feel enclosed, and I feel... I...

... feel!

Standing close, I feel.  And I shouldn’t feel.

Rain permeates the non-coloured memories

damp, sodden evenings and damp, sodden mornings

remembering: neglected, remembering rejection

remembering exclusion – sustaining exclusion.

But, standing close, I feel – and I shouldn’t feel –

that’s not meant to happen; it’s not what I’ve planned

And, no, you can’t plan for how you’ll be feeling

but – shit! – what’s the use in still having feelings?

Still, standing close, I feel, but I try to go numb.