Redux
We were damaged early on.
Thanks, Mutti.
Years of pretense.
A lifetime of living with it.
But the truth came out.
You didn’t like me.
That part didn’t hurt.
It’s that you didn’t even want to.
I was good enough to borrow money from, though.
Just not appreciated enough to give me the truth.
Family, my ass.
Originally published 9/23/2018 on I Write Her.
Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see #131
the first-born knew
the youngest would go far
being curious, intelligent, and bold
she was way beyond her years
they both leaned on each other
the inexperienced one required the wisdom
and the oldest unwound from the spontaneity
largely when they grew up
a connection formed in childhood
and survived through the ages
one needed the other
who needed the other
forever…
Pixabay.com
We were damaged early on.
Thanks, Mutti.
Years of pretense.
A lifetime of living with it.
But the truth came out.
You didn’t like me.
That part didn’t hurt.
It’s that you didn’t even want to.
I was good enough to borrow money from, though.
Just not appreciated enough to give me the truth.
Family, my ass.
I Write Her 