She didn’t really take to him
Or like him very much
It was an obligation
Unlike the others
Who just loved him
Who had no reason to
Despise a little boy
She only had one reason
To like him for his father
But it was also too late
For that
If she already hated
The past the things
She couldn’t grasp
By the throat and
Extinguish
What would we have left
But slaps across the face
Arguments about the place
Where things belonged
That she didn’t really care about
Who pitted them against
One another and did his
Mother make it harder
Or easier
Knowing that looking back
The decisions were
Never his own
Like a ghost in the wall
Scratching at the
Alternatives
Play dress up
When no one is around
Pretend to be something
Likeable
Never caught and
Never found
It’s the end of the beginning
Years of trying to push it out
Who’s growing up inside
Figuring it out maybe
Thirty-eight years later
It could have been better
If someone stepped in
Another chance to
Be a whole human
But the rest of us
Are left to figure it out
On our own
© GÄ
Poétique 