Couture

I remember each strand,
the weight and length
it took to go
from one end to another
and a room at night
patented white and blue,
the glue of motherhood
and the hue of still
wanting to be, just me.
I would plait each strand,
tightly, just knowing
that as morning
ended and night began
I would be tucking
stray, recalcitrant
me, behind the ears.
You never knew
because, I never said
and lying in bed
I would dream
of stars on the ceiling
wishing and wishing.
I miss the despair,
the worry, the anxiety,
Most of all
I miss the me
that should have
cherished it all.
I miss the you
and a careless hand
who could never
however hard she tried
be the coutured mother
with a perfect hairstyle.

I'm glad to say
you told me,
you liked me that way

I still hang out on the
breeze, pegs undone
doing the wrong thing.







Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 467 times
Written on 2009-05-24 at 16:23

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text