●☆●♡●☆●
I hold my breath when
you come to me
Or call me on the phone
Your non~questions rarely being
How are you Mom
But that you need money
You say it is for good things
Like food and clothes
Maybe it will be after...
When you begin to heal

I try and protect my fragile heart
Cause I don't know when
the war will break out that
will tear us again
Carefully packed bags
now ripped and strewn
across the foor
knick knacks fallen
with the slam of the door

On the phone for a moment
longer than you approved.
Punishment of your spite,
ugly names that came at me
like pellets and angry wasps,
while the woman
on the other line
told me it would all be OK
Assured me
over and over
A three minute call
that ended too soon.

Too long for You to wait.
Longer than the Morning
was patient, while you slept
as I lovingly packed your food.
▪●☆●▪

Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.