Five years…

Last Friday was the fifth aniversary of the start of my breathing problems. It was on a Thursday, and I can remember it so well. It was much milder than this year, and I’d been to see my Dad.

Tomorrow would be my sister’s birthday. I feel sad, alone about it. My cousin phoned yesterday. We talked, it’s always good but I could not communicate my sadness. Her twin brother also died, a year before my sister.

I don’t often give advice, but if ever you have a neighbour who is kind but boring, don’t ever let them talk to you in your living room after he crashed into your bedroom at 3am. His flatmate will never cease in trying to make trouble for you.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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