I know the words to break you. Cushion them together and they pack a punch
Its funny cos you were always the strong one, red chewy sinew to my bone-cold frame. Yet silent spirit you never let out a squeak, even when I rubbed away at your layers of sleep.
In the summer of 98, cool evening air, we got drunk on my parents front steps. Uncle Nelson, bathroom sandal extraordinaire, was having his wake, my relatives came round cast in gloom .
Weaver of words I lashed at their wails. The whip mocking louder, made you fall into slow silence. When had it stopped being funny?
Out with it!
The bitter fruit curled up in my throat. I spat it out! Goosebumps boiling in rage, they sprayed far till all the poison I had ever held was released from this diseased cage.
Your gentleness, meek and patient could not have survived, you dragged you wounded soul back to the other side.
Like the day we never could seem to hold a steady reign. My foolish rock you had finally conceded, to leave me alone just as they did.