You finally return to the place we call home
Where you leave me alone
To take care of your children
Though I am one of themFuck you, fuck you, I missed you so much
Craving parental touch
Was it too much to ask?
I do every household taskI keep us to schedule
There's a problem, I take the fall
Always answer your calls
Banish imagined ghoulsFrom the mind of my brother
Taking the role of mother
And father and sister
And babysitterAnd cleaner and cooker
And trying to anchor
His floating mind with normality
In the storm of your absenceI make comfort food with the care
That I wish you would share
Wipe down the plates
As I wish I could wipe my mindIs affection that hard to find?
You come back to complain that the house is a mess
There's a tear in my sister's dress
And in her eyes tears distressCan't you see that we do our best?
I just wanted some fucking rest
To dream of treasure chests
And my hair being caressedIs it too much to ask?
Apparently sleep is a commodity
I'll never see
You have nothing to give meI get it, keep taking
It's a twisted affection
Remove confidence from me then,
It's only an ornamentI don't need it like you do
I have a few
People that love me
Consider me familyAnd I'm going to stop denying
That I'm still trying
It's not for a lack of care
I just doubt life will ever be fairAnd I'm so tired
Love is hard wired
In the cracked fragments of my mind
But I'll leave it behindYou'll come back once again and yell
And yeah, it'll hurt like hell
But shouting's all very well
When you're an adultYou try to demand respect
But did nothing to earn it
You put a roof over me, yeah,
But I keep it thereIt took me a while
To learn how to smile
While filling so many roles
And patching up bullet holesWith nothing but bandaids
***
How goes it? Sorry this is kind lacks focus.
Just like to thank everyone who's reading, especially those of you that are so supportive with your comments.
I know poetry is hard to respond to, because it holds such different meaning for everyone, and it's often difficult to convey the emotions that even throwaway lines can trigger, so thank you all for doing such an awesome job of giving me such kind and honest reactions.
Alex xxx
YOU ARE READING
Under My Sofa
PoetryWhen I was little I wrote in the space under my sofa. Now I write on top of it. That's not poetic. I'm just too big to fit underneath anymore.