I never knew how much I reminded you
of her—never elevated myself
to her status. I was taller,
but still, I looked up to her,
even when she was in
the hospice bed. I remember
when she told you to bring her
her jewelry box, how
she apologized for
the herringbone chain,
wishing it were rope
to match the detail
bordering
the amethyst locket
lovingly draped
around the neck you
love to kiss.
Everything makes sense
now that I know
I wear it like a badge,
an honor to be compared,
a blessing to be found worthy
of my middle name.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Ekke Ekke Ekke Ekke Ptang Zoo Boing!
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.