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Tuesday, 14 March 2017

the supermarket (charli writes poetry)

possible trigger warning for anxiety/panic, hospital

the supermarket

it was the morrisons.
it's tucked away, a little way from
the big roundabout in the middle of town -
the morrisons we went to
whilst i was inpatient,
but never before nor after.

and it's just a supermarket
and if i told someone that it made
my breathing unsteady,
they would laugh and call me crazy -
roll their eyes and wonder
why i have to be this way

but we used to go and buy
snacks and the latest kerrang
(i needed to keep up with the music world
whilst i was cut off from the rest of it)
and when my dad visited,
eyes laden with concern,
we took him to the cafe there.
i had a toastie - it tasted like cardboard and dust
(what a true cliché)

my favourite thing
when i was there
was buying the christmas chocolate
feeling less alone
more connected to reality
not just the two corridors that made up the ward.

and it's just a freaking supermarket
i never thought it'd become my kryptonite
- not considering what else i've faced -
until we drove back into that car park
(two storeys, slightly disconcerting)
and i felt my stomach drop

and okay fine it's just a supermarket
but my mind associates it
with darkness and shouts and alarms
and being trapped -

or rather, the minutes i got to spend
not trapped, not with the darkness.


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