You asked me for a story, and I told you one that didn’t end in fear. And somewhere inside me, a little girl
By Elena Vale10 months ago in Poets
No milestones today. No tantrums, either. Just cereal on the floor, sticky fingers, a puzzle missing one piece
They slam the door before I finish my sentence. And I let them. Not because I’m weak, but because I remember
We didn’t always agree— on sleep schedules, screen time, or what love should look like on a Tuesday morning
When days are dark I dream of Spring of fields lush with songbirds singing trees in bloom and flowers swaying
By Matthew J. Fromm10 months ago in Poets
There was a time when I answered to one name— mine. Before “mom,” before the calendar filled with other people’s needs,
You don’t notice it at first— the quiet exit. It comes in small, almost-silent goodbyes. The day they stop
I thought I’d teach you how to walk, how to read, how to say “please” and “thank you.” But instead— I’m learning
You don’t always look at me when I speak. Your eyes are fixed on something just past the window, where only you
This is your kingdom— where applesauce is currency and glitter is law. Where socks vanish into portals beneath the couch,
You won’t remember the way I cut your toast into hearts every Tuesday. Or how I let my coffee go cold just to stay beside you
You are not mine to keep. Though sometimes, in the quiet hum of bedtime, I forget that. I tuck you in like I’m sealing up the world.
