Through a narrow street

Through oceans wide and deep
through space and time and sleep
through apathy and inertia
the loneliness that hugs a paper
on the deserted street

through pain and insult and memory loss
morning coffee, in a tin pot
you can stay here if you work here
and keep the throat from going moist
and Brighton, with lights on

that's where you saw the sea
for the first, and last time

through doubts, self-harm,
the doctor's anti-depressants
"that'll help you, my dear,
plus it saves me from having to listen
as I shuffle uncomfortably, I'm not your shrink!
and this shoulder's not for crying on"

that's when you trusted the NHS
for the first, and last time

through your food, your clothes,
your hair, your skin
each bit you loathe
I came to say I love them all
and most of all
I love you