If I told you I felt abandoned,
You’d tell me I was “Inventing”.

I might have the strength to ask,
“Inventing what?”

“Time travel?”
To the days when our kin
Was Family…
“A new bonding agent?”
Something that heals,
Wipes away scars…

I’d stand idly by,
As you responded.
Defensively.
Pass the blame.

“You never come,”
You’d say.
So you didn’t ask.

But, you’re relieved.
Knowing my Kind isn’t there.
The Truth is in the Silence.

Again,
“Inventing”

“Inventing” that the Silence means nothing.
“Inventing” how your defense me makes me feel.
“Inventing” your judgement.
“Inventing” being abandoned.
Cast out.
Left alone.
Feeling like the path of most resistance.
A path not worth taking.

A journey of turmoil.
Pain.
Redemption.
And loneliness.

With no one left to witness…
Self-invention.

03/15/2017

Posted on 03/15/2017
Copyright © 2024 Deborah Breuer