shelter

I bring him into my spare room, into
my kitchen and my workplace,

I pour money and love into him
until he is well enough to live for himself. 

 

Madi needs a mother, a secret-keeper,
someone who can heal her without Epsom bathes
or crystals or the thought of the universe looking after you. 

I try and fail, I become another fading female figure
in the growing line of deserters. 

 

Trevor.

Trevor saves me every day, and I abandon him.
It may take time machines and scalding, tar-black magic,
but I do not give up, I will never give up trying to
right my mistake on that miserable night. 

 

Amanda whispers in my ear, holds my hand. She
shows me the bruises on her arms but I see them
more in her screaming doe-eyes. She is older than twenty,
and not in a good way. I tell her (again) to leave,
knowing she still won't until it's already too late. 

 

I ache to save everyone, I want to fix them to
make up to my past self - for not leaving, not telling
my secrets, not trusting my sweet mother. So I overflow
with the love I couldn't show myself. I give and give
and give.

 

But my dear, you are just another mission
leveled by the earthquakes. I rebuild you, hang
beautiful iron bells, hand-wrought works of love,
but I've yet to hear them ring. I have learned, at long last.

I wish I could swoop in, scoop you up
and paint your sanctuary walls again. 

But I can't possibly save you from yourself. 

You want to crumble. 

And I need shelter of my own.