Poems

The Thing You Love More Than Your Daughter

Posted by Laura on January 16, 2015 at 1:55 AM

How does it feel spending all your hours attached to a piece of furniture?

You love that couch more than you love me

My heartbeats must not be soft enough like the two cushions that you worship - floral, lifeless.

They own your soul and that’s why you spend your days there,

Lying like it’s a part of you.

I sometimes ponder if I burned that damned thing, would you leave?

Or would you sit in the place where it once stood – desperate, disoriented.

I am plagued by an inanimate object that you cater to.

It is okay to disappoint your flesh and blood, but not your block of fabric and springs.

In a sense it is perfect: no conflict or emotions, just a steady, stable piece work of man waiting for you with open arms.

While I am flawed: an unpredictable, broken, hurricane of emotions waiting for you with bleeding arms.

No wonder you choose to place your love where you do.

 

Categories: Loneliness, Pain, and Suicide

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