No. 1 Son

I can’t remember the last occasion

I told my mum

Something meaningful about myself.

I must look pristine and clean;

Free of scars,

An imaginary android: beep. boop. bye.


It’s not that I won’t, it’s just that I don’t.

Half my fault;

There’s nothing stopping me now –

Except a lifetime of awkward distance;

Small talk,

And the fear that we’ve missed it.


Your new man and I butted heads

I told you so

And you were compelled to decide:

Jealous child or the man in your bed.

Not angry, not really;

Just feel you chose the wrong side.


I knew he was selfish, and a bit of a snake;

Hard to describe

When you’re five; with nothing at stake.

He was a gaslighting control freak and cock

Did you put chilli in the mince?

And part of me’s glad he can now barely walk.


Paid me off to prevent affection;

Not that I blame you:

I steered myself in the right direction;

Raised by friends and experimentation –

Worked alright

Until emotions, then hesitation.


Can’t remember the last catastrophe,

I said ‘I love you’

Or even felt snug in a comforting hug.

Could well be mistaken, this stance that I’m taking,

Is he still married?

But part of me knows, we’ll just always be waiting.

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