“Ride or Die”
I thought.
I lied.
The daily guilt consumes me inside.
She’s been gone. Taken
And I drive by
The house she’s in.
The “friend” and husband
Who took her away
Lied and Betrayed
My trust. My weakness.
My reach for support.
Why my partner of 13 years?
My pal? My cohort?
My companion who’s seen me
Through all 3 pregnancies.
Two kids here today
And the one that got away
Whose rubs on my leg
Helped me through one more day
When all the world's color had since turned to gray.
Who’s been to 5 states.
In cars. And on planes.
Who stayed with my sister
When my ex had me threatened
Who we sprung from a shelter
After a rape and relationship ended
Who scared my Mom when I first snuck her in
Who my Dad got to know, though he’s now in heaven
Why her? Why G? Why my ride or die?
Why take my G-unit and leave me to cry?
“Property” the cops say. So sue for small claims.
But who puts a price on their family name?
Gypsy Dorn. My beloved.
The crotchety Grandma.
Who’s been that way since we first held
Hands and paw.
With so many animals awaiting adoption
Why take mine, then tell me to proceed with caution
Every day I still miss
Your corner presence
As I try to accomplish
Work’s tasks on my list
Then I beat myself up
Though you’d look with compassion
If you were watching me type
In this soap opera fashion
Trying to get just one thing done
with passion
The weight is so heavy
I can’t let you go
Yet I beat myself up
Feel ’m moving too slow
There’s so much to say
Yet no words could say it
Actions to take
Yet Anxiety snakes it
It’s trauma resurfaced
And you’re up to bat
G-Money. My Gypsy. Best Coworker.
My cat.
About the Creator
Katie Dorn
I believe in creating the version of yourself you desire.
My writing is designed to make you think.
Single Mom of 2 and Student of Life.
I get paid for my ideas and naturally different ways of thinking. *
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