Less then perfect

When they tell you over and over again.  A few spoken works ripping your insides making you believe what lays dormant.  In wait you feel shadows of dark slowly consuming what little good you may actually still feel.  You are so easy to convince.  Who you are a seedling planted by those who soil your goodness.  They win advantage in their game. So desperate are you for connection.

A sense of belonging scattered with his every word.  Your heart dismissed his promises empty, the silence wrapped tightly strangling all chance all hope.  An estrangement, false moments pulled together to create something fallen short of real.  Your mother mourns her loss devastating, her reality diminished reminding you of your failures alive in her mind.  Words spoken in anger in confusion.  They draw real blood every time. 

Is he haunted by yesterday?  As victim his wounds carry no remorse strengthened through want of freedom.  In her reach to protect she pushes it all away.  Her anguish silent her tears unshed.  She smiles to show the world she is unbreakable.  Distance and time dampened at core she is lost.  Her path burdened with what he struggled against choosing leaving. 

Keeper of all that is lost your chest heavy, too denied escape.  Your crowns scatter fighting for who you truly are.  Keeper, mother, daughter, wife, sister clinging to the bits left over.  Last words calling you unloved keeping you tethered.  A pawn.  A child no longer.  You pretend wearing nothing.  What is unsaid, fills you.  For now it remains less than perfect.