The Hospital Collection: Shobar

When I first met you, I
laughed because your name
sounds like “sober”, something

which is out of my reach.

You hated Him from the start.

I’m certain that
you were secretly pleased when
I told you that we had separated.

Why did you separate?

Because I have bipolar.

He’s no good for you
He’s no good for you,
you said.

You give me leaflets
and a crisis line card
to keep in my wallet.

You give me condoms
and precious reassurance
to carry in my pocket.

You will get me a flat,
you will get me disability
benefits, you didn’t mind

that I gave up

and quit my job.

You don’t want me to do
dangerous things for money,
you have my best intentions at heart.

I liked you from the start.

Where is the end?

I fear there is no end
I feel like I will see you every
Tuesday for the rest of my life.

I thank you, and your silk scarves,
and kitsch jewellery, and
healthy lunches.

You tell me to play tennis
and wake up at 7am.
I will not do these things

and for that

I am sorry.

I think I’d be dead without you,
and I know I shouldn’t miss appointments
but it’s hard, so hard.

I am going to tell you
that I’ve written two poems
in homage to the best Community

Psych Nurse in the Royal Borough
of Windsor and Maidenhead.
I am sorry that I lie about things to you.

I lie about my drinking problem,
I lie about my drug taking,
I lie about my promiscuity.

The last time I saw you, I was
out of my mind on cocaine.

You didn’t have a clue.

You’re lucky that you’ve found God.

You’ve promised me a future,
and for that I cannot thank you enough.
The future is mine.

I think I’d be dead without you.

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