Poetry: Blanket-less by Ivy Lore
The ghosts of your decisions
used to haunt me
Watching you eagerly break the pieces
of the boy that I’d loved.
I railed against the possibility,
the sinking eventuality,
that you had to make your own way.
I couldn’t break your fall
or persuade you not to go that route.
I saw those thin, perfect lines
desolately make their journey
into your eyes,
the set of your jaw,
the threads of yourself.
Those tiny, deep cracks,
that I was powerless to stop.
I couldn’t contain you,
and I let you go.
I gave you up
with the resolved desperation of a child
who sits in bed
palely holding her blankets
because she knows she can’t reach the light,
flip the switch,
and make the nightmares go away.
Angry. Shaken. Exhausted.
I accepted the dark in that room.
I found new rooms
New lights – to turn on in the night.
It wouldn’t be until years later,
that I realized the dark was inevitable.
The light was me.
And even your broken pieces were beautiful.