[today]Nov 8th, 2008 6:00:35 am - Subscribe

I put away
every sharp object:
pin and blade
and dangerous edge.

I still don't
trust myself
with scissors,
even these days.

Part of loving
oneself is
knowing how far
that love extends.

Part of being
a family is
knowing you'll
have to leave.

How far I've come,
to stand here and
to hold myself up -
courage, pride, strength.

I break so easily -
tears to drown me;
rage to scream
at you endlessly -

because I'm guilty
of knowing that
these days are
numbered few.

Regret sits
on the back step
with the pumpkin
we didn't carve

this year, because
I wasn't here -
unwanted, unaddressed
and necessary.

I'm not
your little girl
anymore -
I'm so sorry.

I didn't mean
to go
and grow up
and go away.

I stare at my wrists
hating time
for dragging me on
through life;

for tearing us
apart and
casting me
into future.

Oh, how I
want to remain -

I'm not your
little girl now,

but I'll always be
your daughter

and I'll always be
your big sister;

I'll always want
this house; I'll

never leave.

I put away
the scissors, and
my ink
and all my words.

I chose to live
that night, years ago,
for you, so now
I have to go.

Part of
being a family -
however torn,
however mad -

is knowing
you'll never
have to leave,
right?

I'll always have
what you gave me:
courage, pride,
strength and love;

and I'll always
be your daughter
your big sister -
always belong.

[I am]unhappy