May 6
Rope
I want my mummy
but the rope between us
snapped long ago.
I want my daddy
but he’s stretched too thin
holding both ends.
I want to be held
and understood
by someone who loves me.
But they can’t handle the rope burn.
I push people
until the rope frays
in their hands.
Rooms fall silent
when I start.
So I learn
to tighten quietly.
Everything unsettles me
and nothing stays long enough
to hold.
Why did I come to be?
Why didn’t I die
when my mother told me to?
I wish she’d let the rope
hold
a little longer.
Then I would never have learned
that she had already
given up on me.
The candle she held for me
had already blown out.
Smoke curling slowly
into a room
that forgot I was there.
The rope never frays
when it’s around
your own
neck.
