I found my hands in disarray under the covers
And used them to arrange the chaos of screams
Neatly under my lungs.
when I glued my voice back together
it sounded like broken glass.
No one cared until they saw I'd tied knots
In everything you'd left behind.
I curled up in my curtains and sang lullabies to help loosen
the death grip I had around Mr. snuggles' neck.
The one about the falling baby was my favorite, soothing my ears
after the constant abuse of questions that were supposed to prove
the rest of them were concerned –
Thank hallelujah when they realized I wouldn't say a word.
I didn't understand why you had to go away,
and when you came back, it was only for a little while.
I was seven, distrusting
I'd deny it if you said I was bitter,
Yet would you take it personally if I said
It was all your fault?