All her life
she felt
like she was abstaining from
something.
the adult magazine
that stood
readily available at
her local supermarket
had almost guaranteed her
moralistic downfall.
She was young,
too young,
but she remembered how
she’d felt.
Perhaps she would have forgotten
had it not been for her
parents shouting,
cold brother,
constant slamming doors.
Every day there seemed to
be a ‘who could be the loudest’
contest at her
house.
it was too disorderly to be called
a home,
although it lay host to a whole
heap of problems
that imbedded
themselves in
the purple dining room walls
and tht horrible
green sofa that
her grandma had
left behind.
It seemed so out
of place in the context
that surrounded
it
but still she felt
like the sofa
had more of a place
in the mother’s heart
than she ever could.
Perhaps that’s why she
never took to it
like a new born baby
sucks all the attention
away from the older
sibling.
It wasn’t even comfortable,
that was the worst part.
A water droplet
so shallow,
but deep
like a ravine,
echoes dance across a shore
like the future daughter
you never had.
Promises of a smile
as you look down
at that curious and
gentle creature you built,
gone.
In an
instant.
These few words
had ripped across time
her heart divided by a few moments of movement
on your lips.
A dance that normally
had her awaiting your every word
but only causes hurt now.
A dance no longer wanted.
A dance no longer cared for.
A dance no longer needed.
A trio
all full of hugs
felt by each other.
A strong circle of those
you will devote the
rest of your time to.
These three would hold hands
and return home to
the feeling of love.
A happy home that although square,
felt like a bubble.
Something encapsulating
and protective but
ever so vulnerable.
All it’d take is for
something sharp for it to pop.
Some sharp words perhaps?
I know I’d rather not
be the one to find out.
Keep that thought,
that memory
burnt in the back
of your mind
So every time you
think of forgetting,
simply peer into the
ashes in the back
of your head.
: thoughts on footwear and fleeting poems
wear shoes, write poems 