Dedicated to my good friend Reade12 , who can relate, but I hope she won't have to again.
***
From the first moment,
You picked a string of faith,
From me,
And tied it to yourself.As time went on,
Many more were picked,
And we watched as they were woven
Into a bond of trust.And I could count on it.
Count on you.And it became a thick yarn
Of our hopes and dreams,
And it held us together
When we were apart.But one day you picked up
A small scissor,
And snipped off a strand
Without a reason.But I still thought I could count on it.
Count on you.And the years passed,
More strings held me to others.
But none of them were as strong,
None as old.But the strings were fraying,
And either by your hand,
Or by mine,
A couple were cut.Still I hoped I could count on it.
Count on you.But by now the bonds were weak,
And they hung tattered
And loose and sad,
And we did nothing to fix them.One day you took your small scissors,
And ripped through the strings,
As though they meant nothing -
As though they never did.And I knew that there was nothing I could count on.
And I knew I couldn't count on you.And now I hold my strings in my palm
In a tight grip,
And no one can take them from me.
Not even you.I can count on myself.
I can.
I promise.
I don't have a choice.But I hope you can count on someone else.
Like I counted on you.
YOU ARE READING
the mind's recesses
Puisiwords that fell out of inky fingers, and stained the paper that lay on wooden tables.