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Addiction & Choices


Addicted to a mother who, in her eyes never loved her, created mental disintegration to a psyche so fragile Failing to inherit qualities of forget, forgiveness begun to take shape as enabling. We forget to mentally prepare, preparing to leave and the object of the game is recovery. The conversation took dramatic turns when directed towards the future so baby dribbled off lips like excuses. We all have decisions to make and some blame others for blatant mistakes. Mother may I? Posed questions underlined with womanhood as if apples had any other choice but to fall from grace. Placed on purpose she chose to do nothing at all and allow time to determine her fate. Ignorance became relevant as accusations caused her back to bruise from the wall she began to fight. Daunted by the task of growing up she spoke futures like fairy tales and waited for everyone to sigh in relief. Truth has a taste and bitterness felt like regret. Saying the change will come created a faulty foundation and I am no longer willing to take cover in this house made of straw. So I cover eyes for the sake of holding visions of before because ignorance never felt so safe. I no longer wait for round shaped eyes and freckles on face to face the reality of the situation. I am waiting for the piece of this heart shaped puzzle to make peace with an active choice and choose life beyond the rainbow beyond mothers who never loved us and men who adore complacency. Lethargy left apathetic tears on pages left blank because apologies never come without a price. Afraid that this time apologies won’t do I write this piece to hold on to pieces of you. We are our mothers’ daughters and this battle isn’t won by pretending it isn’t happening. Created cracks in the levees of this connection and baby voices won’t fix this miscommunication. Slowly tracing timelines where I lost you and I’m hoping you can forgive this infraction. Equations never kept my attention so I begin to wander searching for a solution. Truth is, I am afraid our distance is becoming pro- active, actively separating myself for survival, worried I’m not strong enough to save you from yourself. I throw up my hands and make plans to watch in silence. Holes won’t close and I’m afraid if you’re not careful you’ll fall in. Choices need to be made, before progress can take its’ rightful place. responsibility doesn’t just go away on its own because this game your too afraid to play. Playful thoughts are now compulsive dreams and I hope these words reach out and take hold. Make a move. Ask for help. Addiction & Choices.
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Comments (1)

jwiener
This is such a heartfelt poem about growing up. The line that spoke to me most was "I am no longer willing to take cover in / this house made of straw" because whether or not the allusion to the story of "The Three Little Pigs" was intentional on your part, it made me think of that story and how that was part of my childhood. This line also made me think about how we all have to grow up at some point and go our own ways, and metaphorically, build our own houses which we feel safe in.

Comments are closed for this poem.