i am from waiting rooms
from linoleum floors and iv cords
i am from sirens
(they scream in the front yard
as loud as my mother)
i am from my father's sickness
an eight year old adult
i learned to care for everyone
but myself

i am from mixed drinks and four counts
from nights as blurred as her vision
i am from all the words she won't remember
and the way they distort my self image
from too much responsibility
i am from the mothers day cards
my litte sister addresses to me

i am from my only Florida home
avocados and iced tea
from shared stories in the back yard
the boy i loved, who broke my heart

in my closet there was a cardboard box
filled with skeletons and secrets
a mix of different memories
to never forget what built me
i am from those moments
the calm, the chaos
the lovely life i lived

s.s