what about the fact that I am unwanted
what about if I make you feel,
that way too
what about the eggshells that we tip toe on
trying not to make a crunching sound
trying not to bleed
at least not loudly.
what about when I was her
what about this aching need
to see her again
the way that you once saw her
the way she looked at you
looking at me
she made you shiver
why can’t I cry
when I need to
stop my head from hurting
when I need to breathe again
in a clean straight line
why can’t I know
how to stop this
what about the silence
what about the words
that invisible lips own
what about this could be right
what about us
could be.
About the Creator
Sandra Matos
I write so that people will remember me. I make art for the same reason. I had a mother that I never knew. Who she was, how she smelled, or what she valued. I don't want anyone to wonder who I was.
Comments (1)
Awesome poem! I love the way you paint scenes with your words… “what about the eggshells that we tip toe on trying not to make a crunching sound trying not to bleed at least not loudly.” It makes me think outside of the box. Really well written Sandra.