Lynn Hilary

The taste of my fear was in every new meal 
So familiar to me and always seemed real 
It dulled all the colours and robbed all the shine 
It hid in the shadows but stole every line 

It deadened…

When I go, I want to go used up, nothing wasted, nothing missed 
Not a fat fruit, hidden in the middle of a thorny bush, 
Over-ripened and rotting on what was once it’s own plump potential 
Drunk on it’s own…