20 October 2011

You wanted to go softly
but your shoes made hard and rough sounds
across the floors.
They should not have held it against you.
I never did.
You wanted to be left alone
to keep the beast's head down
and his howls muffled
but they always called your name
and politely inquired if they could steal
a tiny piece of your soul as a keepsake
which I kept myself from doing, mostly.
In the end, they said you were damaged
even though they had scuffed
and marked you at an early age
but even that
they held against you.
In my head, I always told you
something pretty
in a way that came out right -
for what it's worth.