I turn the keys
opening the locks of memory,
searching for something sad,
a twisted type of
misery, that'll make me smile
for a short while,
knowing it exists.

I can't tell if I'm happy or
miserable any more.
what is happiness supposed to look like,when
I see it approaching, I don't recognise it
until it's passed, even then it leaves
no scent, only tire marks.

responsible

are you responsible for me?
responsibility- not a difficult word,
grounded, not dizzyingly airy.
but after all,
you aren't responsible for me.