“Where are your morals?”, she cried,

Followed by “What’s wrong with you?”

Then another complaint,

Which I did not hear because I had walked away

At quite a pace.

Morals: the code by which we live our lives,

Yet of course we each have our own code,

Our own compass,

A little voice in every mind,

Sometimes ignored.

My code tells me

As long as we are not hurting others,

If we aim to have integrity,

That compass is pointing in the right direction.




“It is so sweet that you care.

Thank you for trying to help me.”

Those are the words I want to say;

Trapped in my throat before they reach you,

They sputter and fall

In the air between us,

Heavy with regret.


Although my gratitude remains unspoken

I hope you know what I want to say,

Because I am thankful to you.

Everyday I have new reasons to be.

Yet how can I expect you to know,

As if you can read all my thoughts

In my eyes or on my lips?


I want to tell you that

Sometimes I need to fuck up,

To see the damage I cause.

Do not bring me back

From this chasm;

I do not want you

To fall in with me.