If it wasn’t so hard to be disengaged.

I’d find your purpose comically ironic.

But your owner left a daughter raged,

And her mother catatonic.

You're built to repair,

not tear things apart.

Yet your owner decided

He needed a fresh start.

Your useless self collects dust

In a busted piece of tin.

Is that how it works without a death?

Belongings still go to next of kin?

He hadn’t wanted you either,

Without your silvery shine.

You’re no good to him with all that rust.

I get why he left you behind.

Your cheap and simple,

Bunch of replacements around.

I wonder if he put a new crib together,

With his new rebound.

Maybe if you fit every nut and bolt,

You would’ve been enough.

He would only need you,

Forget the other stuff.

You only get one Phillips Head Screw,

Unless it’s a new case,

Then you get a new family, too.

Make the old version erase.

There won't be any rust or dust around.

Just a new screw,

In a new house,

In his fancy new town.

Piercing wind whispers lowly,

Too scared to make a sound.

Tip-toeing feet move slowly,

Silence growing too loud.

The wooden door creaks open,

Bunch of bodies gather ’round.

Making out murmurs spoken,

“Missing Person: Found”

Weaving through the masses,

To approach the fallen chair.

On the floor rests a lasses,

Same eyes, same nose, same hair.

Rope dangles from the ceiling,

Someone had to put it there.

Such an event to be revealing,

Of all who truly care.

There seems to only be a minute left,

Before it comes time to depart.

Plentiful faces all bereft,

Longing for a restart.

Perhaps if I’d known before,

I’d have a change of heart.

But now I lie on the floor,

Forever torn apart.

If only the clocks would reset,

This could be a dream.

Having saw my loved ones wept,

My actions appear extreme.

“Give me one more chance”

But it’s too late

For them

To hear

my screams

Perhaps the first time she heard the words “I love you,” they were pure. They weren’t connected to a raised hand or unfaithful lips. They carried warmth every part of her had trusted. Love had meant something beautifully desirable to her ears.

Perhaps the first time she received a gift, it was a celebration, not an apology. The item reflected how well someone understood her, how much someone cared. It wasn’t a bribe to excuse her pain. Someone showed her how grateful they were just to have her in their life.

Perhaps the first time she let someone do something for her, they enjoyed being helpful. They didn’t expect a claim over her innocence in return. They relieved her of a burden, because someone loved her enough to do so.

Perhaps the first time she was held it was comforting. It wasn’t a restraint holding her back. It wasn’t a mark she had to cover up. It was affection. There was safety and security at the beginning. Someone dried her tears and held her hand like she was the most precious thing they could have touched.

Perhaps that is why she needs time. She needs someone to keep showing up, giving her undivided, positive attention. She needs dates, even if they’re talking on a blanket under the stars. The only love she can trust is the one that grows in time. The one she can see, hear, feel, know time and time again. The one without room for deceit. They are either there, or they are not.