Lost Dimensions of You<\/p>\n
The doctor recommends at least an hour of sunlight a day.
\nThey say that it may have prevented what happened to you.
\nBut they’re just guessing.
\nYou were outside from dawn to dusk all your life,
\nSoaking in the light.
\nDarkness still overtook.
\nA picked wildflower.
\nFalling petals, you are losing dimensions.
\nYou used to glow and grow,
\nUntil those clammy hands caressed your lovely stem,
\nSending a vine up your spine,
\nDraining your light.
\nYou began to struggle,
\nReaching for help with thorns extended.<\/p>\n
Daily tasks became too much.
\nSo you sank into the couch like a void,
\nHating me more every time I left.
\nI know you live in agony,
\nBut I shouldn\u2019t have had to hold your hand
\nJust so you wouldn\u2019t end your life.
\nI shouldn\u2019t have had to be called names,
\nShoved against the wall,
\nSpit on my face from your screeching.
\nJust for not finishing my Zucchini.
\nAnd I can remember the seven times I ran away from home–
\nNo. The house.
\nAnd you told me to go to Hell the eighth time.
\nSo I obeyed and I stayed.
\nAnd my feet still ache
\nFrom the egg shells I stepped on trying to please you,
\nThe eggs you shattered.<\/p>\n
You were supposed to be taking care of me.
\nI held you,
\nA flower wilting in my arms.
\nYou always seemed to vie for my tears,
\nHungrily guzzling them down,
\nBut they never could hydrate you into the flower you once were.
\nAnd you pulled me close,
\nMelting me against your chest with the fire of your toxicity.
\nTears to steam,
\nRosy skin to scales,
\nKind heart morphing,
\nMixing and swirling together in brutal ways.
\nAnd for years, we were one in the same.<\/p>\n
But who are you? I don’t feel like I know you.
\nThey tell me you were great before it happened.
\nA wildflower, swaying in the wind,
\nMoving and grooving to your very own song.
\nBut the vine fed on your brain,
\nAnd you slipped and slid from this dimension.
\nI could see you still, but you were not you.
\nAs a young child, I remember you were two dimensional.
\nYou were like a painting,
\nThough I don’t think a painting stings like that did,
\nAn abrasive slap across the face.
\nAnd you have since become even less.<\/p>\n
And anyone else would think you are just fine at first glance,
\nBut I can see you glowing at the edges,
\nThe outline of your body shaking,
\nAs if your atoms are unbounded–
\nA bomb.
\nYou always erupted cataclysmically so,
\nAnd your atoms swung like knives.
\nBut you never did quite get all of them back.
\nPart of a person,
\nYou have been seen again,
\nBut never known.<\/p>\n
And Mom–
\nMom, I think I miss you.
\nI think I miss someone I never really met,
\nSomeone I would have been proud to know.
\nAnd Mom–
\nI love you.
\nI love you when I see your mother in the reflection of your glassy eyes,
\nA woman who was so overtaken with the vine herself,
\nThat she could not hold a conversation.
\nI love you even when you explode with fury,
\nAnd especially when you’re happy, almost a whole person,
\nWonderful and bright!
\nWhen you’re funny, creative, ambitious, and you really like puns.<\/p>\n
And I’m sorry I said all those mean things about you earlier,
\nYou’re so strong,
\nThe least I can do is dodge a plate and not complain.
\nAt least you made zuchinni.
\nPlease let me hold your head as you cry.
\nI’m sorry I left home.
\nI’ll come back.
\nI’ll be just like you again if that will make you happy.
\nI’m sorry
\nI’m so sorry.
\nPlease forgive me.
\nSmash my head against the door
\nIf it makes you feel better.<\/p>\n
And I’m smothered in the shadow of the vine millions fed,
\nAs it looms over me.
\nFor multiple sclerosis
\nIs a genetic disease.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Lost Dimensions of You The doctor recommends at least an hour of sunlight a day. They say that it may have prevented what happened to you. But they’re just guessing. You were outside from dawn to dusk all your life, Soaking in the light. Darkness still overtook. A picked wildflower. Falling petals, you are losing … Continue reading “September Coffee House”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":28,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/911"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/28"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=911"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/911\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":935,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/911\/revisions\/935"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=911"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=911"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=911"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}