Giving Up on Marley

 

Has it really been fifteen years

    since I first took little steps onto Marley.

Her grey appearance that welcomes all while reflecting

the fluorescent lights above.

A friend I have grown so accustomed to

feeling under the ball of my calloused feet,

assisting my body as I jump, turn, fall, crawl, slide, then

Melt into her as mixing emotions swirl in the hot air

smooth like a new jar of peanut butter or rough like unsanded wood.

She’s where blood, dirt, sweat, tears, and hair collect together

like a diverse community.

Marley teaches lessons

of trusting she will always be there.

Supporting my movements forever

like Marley is my biggest fan.

Bruises will appear, blisters will open, bones could potentially break

    all with a partner we pour our lives onto.

I’ve trusted Marley for so long I’m almost hesitant

to leave, feeling disappointment reach up into my bones.

All of her signs point to me staying

grounded on her where my mind, body, and soul have grown.

What if those signs are wrong?

Teachers have always said that the floor will never leave

you, so don’t look down, trust the patterns of your feet.

As I look down now

           I see only concrete, not my constant partner.

          

Marley has left me, or rather

           I left her,

                                  along with my childhood dream.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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