Circling Cycles

And sitting with you

I get to relive exactly where I’ve been before.

Only days ago.

Come full circle.

My flip-book details the same seconds of

unrequited confusion and unwanted heart to neglect.


Life is made up of cycles.

All it is

are cycles breeding more cycles;

circles one can choose to stop circling

to replace it with another.


It is the mixture that we cycle through;

the number of repeats,

the speed with which we tumble, and roll,

and dive head-first into an oblivion with all the colours

of artworks and fireworks, vibrancy and vitality.

The people who make up small cycles, large cycles,

the in-between lonely transition between new circles and loops

to contemplate, fight, submit under gentle lulls and thrilling loops,

that we educate ourselves to thrive upon, those that

we unlearn because of disappointment.


Each cycle doesn’t make it the

love affair it once was.

The friendship it could have been.

The tempting mirage of escape we were to each other.

The fuel and coursing fire that once was our motivation.

It doesn’t get simpler to manoeuvre the longer you cycle,

with you, without you, around you, for you, because of you,

too scared to lose you…

it’s still the same sticky sharp bend in the pipeline

the same foreplay of games;

‘now, who loves you most?’;

fingered silences’;

your heated chase and me always one step behind;

I have to branch off the loop

to prevent myself falling over you in the dark;

toxicity bubbling under surfaces red, raw,

swollen and teary;

I know my triggers.

My shotgun is you.

I know I feel something- to not feeling anything at all.


I may only be able to walk in circles,

but at least I can make them the right circles to trace.

I need that physical space; that walk-through

corridor in my head.


And now I get to sit with you,

realising I’ve been here all before,

not quite so long before.

Only days ago.

Come full circle.

And I think it’s time for me,

to be over your cycle.


On to the new circular track.

And the later loops and whirls I get to


on my rounds.

Well and truly,

over you.


*Drawing-Tamara Fraser (me)*





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