Never Are
an ode to your small unbecoming

frozen ember, seed pinned to glass -
why didn’t you come?
-
was it the world -
all dust and iron, sour with dreams left out in the rain -
or was it us?
caged prayers shivering in our throats,
laughter clawing its way through plastic smiles.
-
you were a glitch in the ice,
a twitch of warmth coaxed from frost,
but they locked you up -
a hostage of the lab’s white hum,
trapped in sterile trays and shadowless light.
-
there were two of you,
slivers of life set adrift in the cold -
one folded like paper under water,
bled out of existence with no ceremony.
they said that almost never happens -
but almost never is a lie
made up by the lucky ones.
-
and you -
the one who made it past the freeze -
they slipped you into her, soft as an apology,
and she took you in like fire takes to oil.
built a shrine of herself around you,
cathedral of blood and bone,
sheltered you under ribs that burned with want.
-
while she grew you,
I waged wars with the world -
hands raw from dishes and child-rearing,
mind blunted on spreadsheets and bills,
teeth bared to the mundane grind.
but I would have torn down every tower for you.
-
you would have been loved, fiercely,
by your sister -
or not at all.
two blades scraping their edges in the same drawer,
or sharpening each other to brilliance,
like sparks caught mid-flight.
-
did you hear us?
our plans stitched together with tremors,
our mouths full of broken promises?
was it the silence that drove you out -
the weight of waiting too bitter to hold?
-
did you choose to become something else -
a river threading itself through our nights,
soaking our sleep in what-ifs and might-have-beens,
a sadness too thick to swallow?
-
we won’t tell her -
your sister
who still makes up names for you.
her joy is a bright thing unsullied by ghosts.
but you - last of your batch,
small and unmade -
I wish you peace in your unbecoming.
wish you dreams that bloom in the dark.
you are loved -
foolishly, violently,
even though you never are.
.
About the Creator
Iris Obscura
Do I come across as crass?
Do you find me base?
Am I an intellectual?
Or an effed-up idiot savant spewing nonsense, like... *beep*
Is this even funny?
I suppose not. But, then again, why not?
Read on...
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Comments (2)
What an emotional ride <3 Love it
Oh wow, that sure was emotional. Loved your poem!