Amongst the Tesco bags

Fold up your flag,

Recycle your placard,

Crunch it up with the plastic bags under the sink.

Once the vodka kiss leaves your mouth,

When the buzz of jubilation drains from your ears.

As the glitter chokes some innocent sea creature.

Love is love is love.

Or so they say.

Somewhere over the rainbow,

Is where you land,

Or crash.

Love is love is love.

So, they keep telling you.

What if you're making believe?

What if that bright strip of fabric,

Is bunched up around your heart.

Place it nicely away,

Ready for next year,

Ready for another year,

Ready for the proud march.

If you’re here.

Love is love is love,

You repeat at yourself.

Love is love is love.

As the bridge beneath you creaks.

Fold up yourself.

Step back away from the edge.

Live,

At least for tomorrow,

And the next,

and the next.

Love is Love is love,

And you are loved,

I love you.

Without the sparkle,

Without the cosmopolitan buzz,

Without the flat stomach,

Without the perfect teeth.

You’re never the only one,

Struggling with platitudes like empty avocado skins.

Love is Love is love,

But is that enough?

Does that answer the nagging question?

Pawing at your soul like an angry cat.

No.

It doesn’t.

Love is Love,

Life is Life,

Death is death,

Sadness is a ball rolling downhill.

Things are themselves.

Maybe leave the flag out?

Don’t relegate yourself to the cupboard.

Unfold.

Survive,

Breathe.

Believe me.

It’s the brighter option.

It is dark under the sink.